


Hymn to the Sea

by laconicGhost



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Titanic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Austria/Prussia (Hetalia), Minor Character Death, Minor Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Titanic AU, Tragedy, antonio is third class, lovino is a first class passenger, vague depictions of sexual situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laconicGhost/pseuds/laconicGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please, call me Antonio,” he says. “Oh, and Lovino?”</p><p>“What?” Lovino snaps, a little sharper than he wants when his brain has finally caught up to his embarrassment and he realizes he’s acting like a love-sick child. He finds he still can’t keep up when Antonio’s smile changes into something different: not the friendliness it was earlier nor the comforting warmth it was moments ago.</p><p>No, this one is affectionate.</p><p>“I prefer your smile over Feliciano’s any day,” he says, quiet and honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> well i can't believe i've done it, but here it is. 50k+ words of a Titanic AU for a fandom that i haven't been in for quite a few years! i hope it holds up, im actually quite happy with myself for writing so much in such a short amount of time. (i've been working on this for two and a half months lol....) it's finished, but i'll probably be posting a chapter once a week! 
> 
> without further ado, let's get to it! thank you for reading!
> 
> the title of this fic is taken from a song in the Titanic movie soundtrack!
> 
> !! this work loosely follows plot of the 1997 movie by james cameron, so there's a suicide warning for the first chapter. please proceed with caution !!

Lovino was running across the deck; pushing, shoving, _sprinting_ as he sucks air into his burning lungs and ignores the horrified gasps that a boy of nineteen would be so rudely pressing past people probably three times his age without a breath of apology. He had disappeared during dinner, something he knew his grandfather would be _furious_ about with him later but right now he didn’t care _he didn’t care_ he just needed to leave. He needed to escape the choking, thick air of first class and the disappointing gaze from his grandfather from across the dinner table as his brother continued to fill in the empty space his silence took.

Feet pounding against the deck, he is only half aware that his legs are taking him to the other side of the ship, far away from first class, far away from his family and the rest of the stuffy people he knew are judging him even though they didn’t speak to him and placed all their attention into the hands of dear little Feliciano.

_He would never be as good as his brother. Feliciano: bright like the sun, voice like an angel, and as handsome as his grandfather. Lovino may be first born, but he was always the shadow, always the one getting into fights, always the first to speak out of turn. He’d never be anything but a disgrace._

Lovino throws himself against the railing at the edge of the stern, the very back of the ship, trying to sort out the millions of things rushing through his mind as he tries to settle his heartbeat pounding in his chest and sobs echoing in his throat. He stares down at the water, swirling and churning from the propellers pushing the the ship clean through the water. At first it’s crisp and clear, the icy waves frothy and lapping at each other from however meters down below before they blur as unshed tears collect is big drops at the corner of Lovino’s eyes.

...Worthless. That’s all he is and all he’d ever be.

He suddenly feels cold, and it’s not from the air outside. It’s a kind of icy chill that travels from his brain all the way down to his toes when he gets the idea to do something he knows he shouldn’t. His stomach is dropping down to his feet as his fingers clench around the railing, staring down, down, down, below. How far down would it take him? Far enough? He swallows thickly, his throat searing after choking down frigid air so quickly and he feels hot tears being to roll down his cheeks in big blobs as he comes to a silent decision.

Yeah, it would be far enough.

Lovino does a quick look around the back of the deck, and seeing no one in sight, steps over the railing carefully as he grips on tightly, staring down at the cold, watery abyss that awaits him once he lets go. He can’t stop crying but for some reason there’s a voice in the back of his head telling him to stop, _to think things through, to step back onto the other side of the railing you stupid fucking idiot--!_

God, he's always going to be a coward forever, isn’t he?

“Don’t do it.”

Lovino whips his head around at the sound of someone’s voice, blood freezing in his veins at the thought of another first class passenger being the one to find him, only to find the same dark haired man who had been staring at him earlier that day from a different deck only a few feet away, hands up in an open and nervous gesture. His clothes are extremely common, belonging to someone in third class instead of first, but his facial features are nothing of the sort. His sun-kissed skin is a deep, rich brown, and even with the heavy clothes to keep him warm on the cold evening air Lovino can see he’s well built. He has a mess of dark, chocolate curls that refuse to stay flat, blowing around his face and in front of his vibrant green eyes that are watching him so intently with so much concern.

But despite his good looks, he’s still only a _stranger_.

Lovino can barely get his voice out to answer him.

“S-Stay back!” He warns, cursing himself as his voice cracks and he stutters over his words. He tightens his grip on the railing, feeling his heart fluttering around in his chest as he realizes where he’s standing. His eyes catch sight of this man inching closer to him and his voice bursts out from his chest again, becoming a tad more panicked. “Don’t come any closer!”

The man hesitates a moment before he gives a small smile, reaching out towards him. “Come on, give me your hand. I’ll pull you back over.” His voice betrays his Spanish background, giving a bit of a twinge to his English, but his voice is still calm and worried.

“No!” Lovino shakes his head furiously. “Stay where you are! I mean it, bastard!” He can feel his knees trembling underneath him as this man stops in his tracks, his smile falling again. Lovino can’t handle this man’s emerald stare and looks away, back down at the sea and he snags his shaking bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ll let go!”

There’s silence for a moment and Lovino returns his gaze to the man behind him, who is suddenly so close by, his hands in his pockets as he gives Lovino another shy smile, eyes nervous as they watch him. “No, you won’t.”

Lovino stares at him, disbelief filling his brain rapidly for a few moments before he snaps out a response. “What the hell do you mean I won’t?” Was this guy an idiot? Lovino can feel his frustration mixed together with his teetering emotional state and a barrage of words come out of his mouth, spitting at this horribly attractive man who was forcing himself into Lovino’s personal matters. He can already hear his grandfather’s sigh in the back of his mind when he lets a few of curses in. “Don’t fucking assume what I will and I won’t do, asshole, you don’t even know me!”

Something flashes in the man’s eyes at the words and his smile widens a bit. “That’s a bit of a mouth on a first class passenger now, isn’t it? Anyway, if you were going to jump, you would have done it by now, _sí?_ ”

Lovino can hardly hear the bullshit this guy is saying over his heartbeat hammering in his ears and the roar of the ocean under his feet. He finally sputters out an answer while he’s trying to get over his overwhelming shame that he had to have been caught trying to kill himself by an idiot. “Y-You’re distracting me! Get lost!”

“I can’t.”

Lovino wishes he hadn’t even stepped over the railing so he wouldn’t have had to experience this guy’s embarrassing attempts to get him to come down. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snaps again, turning to find the man shedding his coat and laying it on the ground of the deck. He feels heat creeping up his neck as he watches the man rolls up his sleeves. “What are you doing?!”

“Well, if you jump, I’ll have to go in after you!” he explains bluntly, smiling at Lovino like the answer was the easiest one on the face of the earth.

Lovino doesn’t know if he’s ready to laugh or cry some more. “Don’t be crazy,” he says, his voice somewhat strained as he peeks back down at the ocean. He licks his lips, forcing his voice to stay calm and revert back to the tone he uses with other nobles. “You’ll be killed!”

The Spaniard laughs, leaning down to unlace his boots. “Believe it or not, I’m a really good swimmer.”

Lovino realizes that he _really_ doesn’t want this guy coming after him when the man pulls off one of his shoes. “The fall alone would kill you!”

“Hmmm, it would be painful. However, I’m a lot more scared about how cold that water is going to be.” The guy looks up from his other boot, those green eyes suddenly staring straight back at Lovino unabashedly.

Lovino is silent, looking to the water and back to this strange Spanish man for a couple of moments before he speaks up again, his voice incredibly quiet. “How cold?”

The man’s gaze doesn't flinch, but it flickers between the water and back to Lovino. “Freezing. Maybe a little warmer, who knows?” They're both quiet, neither of them breaking eye contact as the man pulls off his other boot and moves them back towards his coat. Just when Lovino thinks he can’t say anything stupider, the man hums for a second. “Have you ever been to Spain? Maybe near Madrid or Barcelona?”

Lovino is so lost at the question he can’t find words that properly express his complete and utter astonishment over this man’s stupidity. Finally, after a few moments of flapping his mouth open and closed, he gives up trying to understand. “What?”

The man shrugs, a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Your accent. It’s Italian, isn’t it? Winters in _España_ don’t get too terribly cold either, so this weather is probably new to you, right?” When Lovino doesn’t answer he goes on. “I grew up near Barcelona, so this stuff is pretty new to me too. One time though, my _amigo_ Gilbert? He let me stay in Germany with him for Christmas once and we went ice skating.” He pauses and looks at Lovino with a curious look on his face when he notices the Italian’s disoriented glare at him. “Ice skating? You know, when people put blades on the bottom of their boots and--”

“I know what ice skating is, asshole,” Lovino hisses, and the man laughs.

“ _Lo siento_ ,” he apologizes quickly, trying to stop his laughing. “I’m sorry. You just don’t really look like the type of person who would go out and do things like that. Anyway.” He looks back down at the ocean, making a face that pulls his eyebrows together and Lovino starts to get irritable when this guy still manages to looks so handsome despite making a face that should make him ugly. The man doesn't seem to notice his mild irritation and goes on. “I accidentally fell through the ice one day.” He closes his eyes. “I thought it wouldn’t be as bad as he said it would be, but I was wrong. It was the worst feeling I had ever felt in my entire life.” He shivers a little at the memory. “It felt like… knives all over my body. You don’t have enough time to try and think of a way to get out, you don’t have enough time to remember how to breathe, all you know is that it’s cold and it hurts and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He goes quiet for a few moments before he sighs. “And that’s why it won’t be any fun diving in after you.” He starts to remove his sweater he had on underneath his jacket, tossing it into the slowly growing collection of clothing, rubbing the back of his neck. “So that’s why I’m hoping you’ll come back over here on the safe side of the railing so I don’t have to do that.” He gives a weak smile.

Lovino doesn’t know what to do, so he returns to the defensive position. “You’re crazy,” he barks, trying to hide the color rising to his cheeks as his eyes dart back down to the crashing of the waves. He can still feel the man’s eyes at his back.

“That’s what a lot of people tell me,” he says, his voice a little cheerful. “But…” his voice lowers and suddenly Lovino can hear him right next to his ear. “With all due respect, _señor_ , I’m not the one hanging off the back of a ship.” Lovino flushes angrily, trying to ignore how that voice caused tremors all on its own, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows this man is right. “Come on,” the man calls again, his voice gentle and father away again. “You don’t want to do this. Give me your hand.”

Lovino doesn’t look back, but when a hand reaches out next to him and stays there, unmoving, he finally gives up.

He slowly but surely, trying to keep his balance on the railing, lets go with one hand so he can reach out towards the man behind him, and takes the offered assistance tightly. He turns shakily, praying that his legs that have turned to jelly beneath him don’t give out and send him falling down into the waves, before coming face to face with this man who’s rescuing him.

His eyes are a lot more vivid now that Lovino can see them up close. The man smiles widely, relief flooding his face when Lovino is so close to safety. “Antonio Fernández Carriedo,” he says, and it takes Lovino a few seconds to realize that the man, Antonio, was introducing himself. He tries to ignore his heart flying out of his chest, his face hot as Antonio eagerly waits for the boy to do the same.

“Lovino Vargas,” he says breathlessly. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Carriedo.”

“Fernández, actually,” Antonio corrects. Lovino gives him a blank look and he seems to smile even wider. “I’m Mr. Fernández. Mr. Carriedo was my grandfather, as that was my mother’s surname. Sorry, it can be a bit confusing for other people because I have two last names.” He laughs a little, a bit flustered. “That’s why I just wanted to--”

“Okay, that’s great and all, but can we save this for after you’ve helped me back over the railing and I’m not in immediate danger?” Lovino snaps, and he’s stunned when Antonio blinks wide, green eyes in his direction at the Italian’s tone but still smiles blindingly.

“Of course, of course. It’s a pleasure.”

Lovino rolls his eyes at little, ignoring the heat in his cheeks, and steps up to climb over the railing, hand still firmly clenched around Antonio’s.

Before he slips and starts plummeting towards the churning propellers with a horrified scream.

He’s momentarily afraid that Antonio has let go of his arm, that he really was falling to his death after he realized that he didn’t want to die, before he snaps back up and Antonio has both hands tightly around Lovino’s arm, holding him up. His voice is loud, louder than the propellers and louder than the roaring in Lovino’s ears, repeating over and over _“I’ve got you, Lovi, I’ve got you it’s okay!”_ as he can feel himself being lifted little by little.

Lovino’s free hand desperately grabs at the railing that’s just out of his reach before he feels himself falling again and he shrieks, pleading for help before he’s caught by Antonio’s strong hands again. He barely hears _“Don’t look down, just look at me!”_ over his own screaming, and he looks up to see Antonio’s expression is just as terrified and panicked as Lovino feels. _“I won’t let go, but you have to pull yourself up, okay?”_ Lovino wants to shake his head, to tell him he can’t do it, but Antonio fixes him with a pleading yet earnest look, his voice dropping down so he’s barely audible, but Lovino can read his lips.

_“I promise, Lovino. I won’t let go.”_

Lovino hangs for a second longer before nodding, reaching up and managing to get a hold onto the railing, Antonio chanting encouragement, before he’s high enough up that Antonio can put his arms around him and pull him back. Lovino wraps his arms tightly around Antonio’s neck, burying his face in his nape as he tries to control his racing heart and gasping for breath.

Antonio staggers back as he pulls him the rest of the way over, both of them toppling over and Lovino’s back hits the deck hard, the both of them breathing hard now that they were both safely on the ship. Lovino’s head is blank, now that the terror and adrenaline has passed, and he stares up at the dark night sky as he sucks in air.

Antonio is knelt over him, checking him over warily before he snaps away quickly when he’s alerted to the sounds of footsteps stamping up the stairs to where the two of them were lying. It was three of the ship’s sailors, alarmed from the sound of Lovino’s screaming, each of them glancing between the pile of Antonio’s discarded clothes and Lovino’s heaving body lying on the ground before the middle one seethes.

“Back away from the boy, and don’t move an inch!” he barks, and Antonio obediently puts his hands up and backs away, but the damage is done.

Lovino wonders how in the world he’s going to explain this to his grandfather.

 

 

 

“Lovino!!”

Lovino is snapped out of his deep thinking by his brother’s voice, and he wraps the blanket that the sailors had given him (before they put Antonio in handcuffs) more tightly around him as he stands. He’s nearly barreled over when Feliciano throws his arms around him, wailing questions of whether or not he’s alright and what happened and crying about how he wished he had been there for him. Lovino doesn’t say anything, especially when his grandfather is hearing what the sailors had to say about the compromising position they found Lovino and Antonio in.

He glances over at Antonio, who’s staring down at his feet until Roma has heard enough. He looks over to Antonio, shaking his head as he mutters in Italian as he crosses over to come face to face with his grandson’s accused attacker. Antonio meets his gaze, lips firmly pressed together. “It’s unbelievable,” he growls, “that you think you could put your hands on my grandson like that. What makes you think you could get away?” Antonio’s gaze flickers back to Lovino’s for a split second before Roma grabs him by his collar. “Don’t look at him, _puttana_ , look at me!”

Lovino can’t take this, especially when it’s his own fault the two of them were in this situation in the first place. “Grandpa--” he gets out from Feliciano’s hold and over to his grandfather before Roma had a chance to do anything worse to Antonio, who’s face has gone extremely pale at the anger being directed towards him. “Grandpa, stop! It was an accident, it’s not his fault!”

Roma closes his eyes tiredly, letting go of Antonio’s collar as he lets out a deep sigh. “An accident, Lovino?” His tone reveals how much he doesn’t believe him and Lovino wants so scowl even deeper than he already is, but he doesn’t think it’s possible. Antonio shoots him a questioning look but Lovino avoids his sight, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“What are you talking about, Lovino?” Feliciano asks, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

Lovino doesn’t know what he’s doing. “Y-Yeah, an accident.” He flushes trying to come up with a lie his grandfather and brother would believe. Feliciano was easy to trick, but Roma? Not so much. “I-I was being stupid, and I slipped off the back of the boat. I was trying to get a better look at the propellers, but I leaned too far over.” He looks back over towards Antonio, who looks shocked that Lovino is even trying to help him (but, God, were his eyes shining?) and Lovino feels himself blush even harder. “I hate being rescued but… if Mr. Fernández hadn’t been there to save me I would have been dead. He almost went over with me.”

He can feel his grandfather looking at him. “You wanted to look at the propellers.” It isn’t even a question, just an exasperated statement that sounds like he believes it and Lovino lets out a shaky breath, but he nods shamefully. Roma sighs again. “ _Dio mio_ , Lovino, what am I going to do with you?”

The guard holding Antonio frowns. “Is that really what happened?”

Antonio looks back at Lovino, who gives him a look that screams for him to agree until the Spanish man smiles weakly. “Yeah, that’s what happened.”

One of the men who had walked out with Grandpa Roma scoffs. “Then this young man is a hero!” he says. “Go on, let him go! Roma, shouldn’t the boy deserve a little something for saving your grandson?” He laughs and turns back towards the front of the ship, and Roma eyes Lovino warily before he turns too.

“Feliciano, take your brother back to the room. 20 dollars should cover it.”

Lovino bristles. “Is that all I’m worth to you?” he snaps, and Roma stops in his tracks to look back at him, and then Antonio as he’s un-cuffed and he starts putting on his extra clothes. He sighs again and turns back to his two grandsons and Antonio, crossing the deck once more to stand in front of the Spaniard.

“I would be honored if you joined me and my grandsons at dinner tomorrow evening. Maybe you can tell the rest of us about your rescue?” He smiles, but Lovino can tell it’s forced. Antonio is putting on his overcoat and he pauses, unsure of how to respond before he grins.

“I’d be delighted,” he says cheerfully. Roma’s smile twitches.

“Wonderful.” It’s the last thing he says as he walks back across the deck and out of sight. Feliciano rubs Lovino’s shoulders, continuing to fuss over him for a few more seconds as he pulls him away before he stops himself and turns back to Antonio.

“Thank you for saving my _fratello_ , Mr. Fernández!”

Lovino doesn’t look back, because he knows that as soon as Antonio’s caught sight of Feliciano that he’s completely forgotten about him. That’s what happens to everyone else, so why not him too? He glares at the ground when Antonio laughs.

“It’s not a big deal, Mr. Vargas! Please have a good night!” He pauses when Feliciano bids him the same and starts pulling Lovino back to their room. “Goodnight, Lovino.”

Lovino looks back, somewhat startled, to see him looking back fondly as they walk away. He feels his face redden when he feels how affectionate that look really is, turning back away without saying another word.

He spends the rest of his evening trying to ignore his heart hammering in his chest as he remembers those clear green eyes.

 

 

  


Antonio makes his way back to his room in a daze, his mind racing and his body feeling lighter than air. He couldn’t stop smiling, remembering that boy’s face. He had been even more beautiful than he had looked from out on the balcony. His hair is a dark chestnut brown, with one awry curl that didn’t seem to want to settle down with the rest of his hair, his eyes a warm hazel that Antonio just wants to stare at and get lost in.

“Lovino,” he repeats to himself softly as he takes a turn down the hallway to get to his room. “Lovino Vargas.” Sure enough, the door is cracked open just a bit and the light is still on, even though it has to be after eleven. When he steps into the room, three sets of eyes turn to look at him.

“Toni?” Gilbert laughs from his bed on the top bunk. “I thought you were sleeping under the stars tonight.”

“I was,” he answers in a sigh, sweeping down to take his place in the bottom bunk underneath Francis. He puts his arms behind his head, staring up at the springs that made up the top bunk as he remembers hearing the pounding of feet and the tiny choked sobs from where he had been stargazing. “But then a boy no older than Ludwig tried to jump off the back end of the Titanic.”

Ludwig, Gilbert’s younger brother, looks up from where he was reading his book in the bottom bunk opposite to Antonio, his usually knitted together eyebrows rocketing up in concern. “What?” he asks immediately. Gilbert looks equally surprised, clamoring over to the side of the bunk so he could see Antonio’s face.

Even Francis looks over the bed frame from over-top Antonio, his chin length blond hair framing his face as he looks over the side up his bed to gaze underneath at Antonio, his blue eyes flashing with immediate worry. “Are you okay?” he asks tentatively, his eyes flickering between the other two tenants of the room like he’s not sure if he should ask.

Antonio beams at all three of them. “Oh no, don’t worry! I pulled him back over before anything could happen!” He laughs embarrassedly, tucking some of his locks behind his ear as he looks away from them quickly. “Even though I was almost thrown overboard by the rest of the crew because they thought I was gonna hurt him…”

Gilbert pulls himself upright, his red eyes flashing. “What was that?”

Antonio bites his lip, his smile faltering. “When I pulled him back over we ended up falling in a heap. Since he was a first class passenger it was a bit of a mess, but everything’s fine now, so don’t worry!”

Gilbert swears, his eyes wide. “ _Scheiße_ , one of those stuffy aristocrats?!”

Antonio frowns. “Not him. He’s not like that.”

Francis blows a few strands of his bangs out of his face. “You were lucky that you even got out of that situation at all, Antonio.” He sighs. “Why did you even get into that mess anyway? If you knew he was first class you should have just left him be.”

Antonio stops staring at the wall as the words pass by the Frenchman’s lips, pushing himself up on his elbows as he faces his friend with a serious look on his face. “I couldn’t leave him to die, Francis! He… he wasn’t himself. He was hurting.” Antonio looks back down to look at the floor, his lips in a hard line. “He was suffering and I needed to help him.”

“You’re third class,” Gilbert says bluntly. “You shouldn’t have meddled. Care to explain how you managed to get out of that situation? You didn’t run away, did you? Because if I wake up to the fucking police knocking down our door to catch a criminal I swear to God--”

“They let me go, Gilbert,” Antonio cuts off sharply. “Lovino told them what happened so they let me go. They even called me a hero! I’m gonna be able to eat dinner in first class tomorrow too. So no, there aren’t any police officers after me.”

Gilbert’s mouth drops wide open, and even Ludwig looks surprised.

“Lovino?” Francis echos. He studies Antonio for a few more seconds before realization hits him and he frowns, pulling himself back up into his bunk, out of the Spaniard’s view. “This is bad, Antonio.”

“What? Why?” Antonio grabs the edge of the bed frame and swings himself off of his mattress so he can see Francis’s expression, only to find the blond with his hand over his mouth, holding up two fingers. Antonio makes a face in confusion. “What are you--”

“Two problems, _mon cher_ ,” he says delicately. “One: you have been invited to dinner party in first class and you have nothing to wear.”

Gilbert groans loudly, making a show as he flops down on his mattress in order to fall asleep. “God, and I thought it was something more serious than that with your reaction. Quit being such a drama queen, Francis, and just let the poor man have his rich people food.”

“I have two points, Gil, not just one,” Francis snaps. He wiggles his two extended fingers, his blue gaze unmoving from Antonio’s baffled green. “ _Deux_ , I think… our dear Antonio is in love.”

Antonio freezes and Gilbert nearly leaps out of the bunk he sits up so fast, his ruby eyes as wide as Antonio’s had gotten. “You’re fucking joking,” he states, his tone completely filled with disbelief.

Francis shakes his head slowly, his hand returning to cover his mouth as his eyes turn downcast. “I’m afraid I’m not.”

It’s Antonio’s turn to shake his head, eyes traveling down to stare at the sheets that adorn Francis’ mattress. He can feel his heart flutter in his chest but he licks his lips nervously letting out a jittery laugh. “That’s-- that’s impossible. I just met him this evening!”

“If he’s the boy you were staring at this afternoon on the deck, completely head over heels I may add, then yes, you are. Love at first sight, I suppose, can even happen across social classes.” Francis frowns again, his voice adding a quiet, “I’m sorry, Antonio.” Gilbert hisses impatiently.

“You’re joking. This is a joke. There’s no way that Antonio could have fallen in love with some first class passenger in a _single_ night,” Gilbert argues loudly. He sighs irritably, crossing his arms. “It’s too, I don’t know… _cliche_! It’s pissing me off!”

“ _Bruder_ ,” Ludwig states softly, cutting Gilbert off. He had been so quiet during their earlier conversation that the three other occupants of the room had nearly forgotten that he was even there. “Keep your voice down, it’s nearly midnight.” They obediently comply and quiet down, silence filling the space between all of them before Gilbert snorts.

“I still think it’s bullshit.”

“Believe what you want, Gilbert, it doesn’t change the truth of the situation.”

“Bull. _Shit_.”

Antonio moves back down to his bed and lays down, listening to his two friends’ muted banter for a few moments longer before he speaks up, his voice a near silent whisper. “Is that really why I’ve been feeling like this all night, Francis?” he asks. “Is that… is that really why I stopped him?”

Gibert groans. “You can’t seriously believe what he’s saying, Toni.”

Francis pointedly ignores Gilbert as he sighs. “ _Non_ , _non_ , Antonio. You would have tried to stop anyone who would have tried to jump because that’s the kind of person you are. However.” Antonio can hear him rustling from above to reach for the light. “I’m not saying that it didn’t help you wanting to help out in the first place.”

Antonio falls silent again when the light is shut off, not speaking for so long he can hear both Francis and Gilbert shifting around in their bunks as they wait for some sort of indication he was going to reply. He thinks back to Lovino, those hazel eyes and that soft brown hair before he sighs, cracking a tired smile. “I guess… that’s really the only thing that makes sense then.”

There’s a small gasp from Gilbert’s side of the room that doesn’t miss Antonio’s attention, before there’s a long sigh. “So you’re really in love then?” he rumbles.

Antonio closes his eyes. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know…” Antonio finally says. “When I stopped you last night, it wasn’t because you were a first class passenger or anything like that. I just wanted to know what had caused you to hurt like that. No one should ever feel like that, and especially not someone like you.”

Lovino decides the next morning that after he’s done getting dressed and he’s finished with breakfast that he should take a walk along the deck to find Antonio before he sees him at dinner. He feels bad that his grandpa had chosen _dinner_ for a reward: he knows that his grandfather is just using him to show off their wealth. He figures since, once again, it is _his_ fault Antonio is involved in a mess that Lovino had created, he may as well help him a little and at least warn the Spaniard of what was to come.

He tries to tell himself that is the _only_ reason he’s going when he feels giddiness creeping into his chest at the thought of seeing the Antonio again, and keeps moving along.

The air outside is a bit chilly, but the sun on his cheeks keeps Lovino warm as he walks briskly down the side of the Titanic. When he comes to the edge of the first class deck, he spies over the remaining part of the ship to see if the Spaniard is outside. Luckily, he finds him immediately. Antonio is sitting on the edge of the third class deck by himself: a book in his lap and pulling his hand deftly across a page.

Is he… drawing?

Lovino pulls the plug on his earlier plan to just call out to the other man, afraid that if he really is drawing that he’d interrupt the Spaniard’s concentration. He understands how an artist’s concentration was when he had Feliciano for a brother.

Lovino didn’t want to feel guilty for ruining anything that Antonio was working on by breaking him out of his inspiration.

Instead, he decides to go and approach him directly. He turns on his heel and heads for the stairs, trying to ignore the looks he was getting since he looked so out of place leaving first class. He keeps his chin up, politely squeezing through a small crowd of people at the base of the stairs and makes his way back out into the sunlight of the third class deck. Lovino spots Antonio again, but this time a little girl is standing over him, looking at the book he was holding.

Lovino stops. Antonio is smiling sweetly at this girl, who can’t be any older than five or six, and she’s smiling back at him, pointing at his sketchbook and then at herself. Antonio makes a thoughtful expression before he beams at the little girl, nodding a little bit and the girl squeals happily while clapping her hands. He’s about to say something else to her before he glances over Lovino’s way and catches sight of him, smiling widely.

Lovino curses himself when heart stutters.

“Lovino!” the Spaniard calls, waving a little, and the little girl turns to see who her companion is talking to. As soon as she sees Lovino her eyes light up like she’s seen a celebrity. Antonio waves Lovino over, and after another moment of hesitation the Italian strides over to join him, trying to ignore the starstruck look the girl was giving him. “It’s nice to see you again,” Antonio says cheerfully. He motions to the child with his stick of graphite, his smile dazzling. “This young lady is Agnes.”

“Are you a prince?” she asks instantly after she's been introduced, and Lovino flushes a little, completely unsure of how to talk to this young girl. It wasn’t a secret in the Vargas household that Lovino was bad with kids -- usually his brother took control of a situation like this one before before Lovino could. After another beat of silence and a shared look with Antonio, Lovino clears his throat, puts on his best smile, and crouches down to get a good look at her.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, and Agnes purses her lips out, cocking her head to the side.

“You live in the fancy part of the ship. Mother says that only princes and princesses can ride in it,” she explains. Lovino looks over to Antonio, unsure how to respond and wanting help but Antonio only smiles, watching the two interact closely. When he sees he’ll receive no assistance Lovino holds back a sigh before he smiles back at Agnes.

“That can’t be right,” he replies smoothly. “Because you’re riding down here, and you’re a princess, aren’t you?” Agnes’ eyes widen before she puts on a blinding smile, and Lovino can’t help but feel his smile as it becomes a little more loose, a little more natural.

“Am I really?” she asks, her voice an awed whisper, and Lovino nods, taking her hands in both of his. Agnes’s clear brown eyes are sparkling after the compliment, her cheeks rosy and she’s nearly bouncing in place in pure happiness. Lovino bites his lip to keep his smile in check, feeling more comfortable.

“Why would I lie to you? Here--” Lovino reaches into his front pocket and pulls out the tiny daisy he swiped from the breakfast table flower vase, and gently ties it around her pointer finger. He had originally taken it so he could press it later, but he figures he could take another tomorrow. The makeshift ring is anything but perfect, but Agnes glows when Lovino pulls away anyway. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a real one,” he confesses. “But a princess at least deserves a ring.”

Lovino can feel Antonio looking at him with mild surprise, a smile growing on the Spanish man’s face as Agnes coos over the ring and thanks him gleefully. Lovino glances over at the amused man, directing his voice back at the girl again.

“I need to talk to Mr. Fernández privately, if that’s alright with you, _bella_.”

Antonio finally steps in and he leans forward, placing a gentle hand on the small girl’s shoulder. “Go back and play with the other kids,” he says. “I’ll give you your picture later.” She nods, pulling her hands away from Lovino’s as he pats at her dress.

“Thank you, Mr. Antonio! Thank you, Mr. Lovino!” she says, bobbing her head down in a nod before shyly turning away and running to join the other children at the other side of the deck.

“Well I didn’t expect that out of you,” Antonio finally says as Lovino stands, brushing off his pants as he looks back down at the artist. He’s giving Lovino such a warm smile that Lovino has to look away because his heart has suddenly lodged itself in his throat.

“I don’t like kids,” he admits, coughing. “Unless... they’re well behaved.”

“Well, Agnes is very much so!” Antonio says cheerfully, standing after packing all of his things together. They all fit nicely in a small portfolio that Antonio tucks under his arm, and he fiddles with his shirt a little and runs a hand through his dark curls before he smiles brightly at Lovino. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah,” Lovino says, trying to ignore how nicely those curls fall back into place and how much good they look when compared to Antonio’s caramel skin. He’s only wearing a light shirt today, and it makes his arms look even better. Thankfully, Antonio doesn't seem to notice how much Lovino is staring at him so the Italian turns away, back towards the stairs, cheeks red. “C-Come with me.”

Antonio follows him obediently, and Lovino waits until both of them are back in first class and away from most of the other rich passengers before he stops to talk. He leans back on the railing, suddenly unsure of how he wants to say what he wants to say now that Antonio is in front of him, but after a few moments he just sighs. “I… I wanted to thank you. For what you did,” he says finally. He feels his face burning in embarrassment so he looks at the floor. “Not just saving me from falling, but… for talking to me.”

Antonio is staring at him. “There’s no need to thank me, Lovino. It just… worried me when I saw you last night, so desperate to end it all.” Lovino can’t help but snort bitterly at this, which catches Antonio off guard. He frowns. “What’s so funny?”

Lovino actually looks up at the offended tone in Antonio’s voice, giving a sour smile. “It’s funny hearing someone like you worrying about someone like me, because it doesn’t ever happen the other way around, you know.” Antonio’s expression doesn’t change, and guilt instantly starts crawling up Lovino’s throat so he looks away quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You know…” Antonio finally says. “When I stopped you last night, it wasn’t because you were a first class passenger or anything like that. I just wanted to know what had caused you to hurt like that. No one should ever feel like that, and especially not someone like you.”

Lovino tries to swallow the words bubbling up in his throat, desperately wanting to know exactly what he means by that. He wants to keep the feelings he usually kept bottled up down in the deepest, darkest pit of himself he wants to forget he had, but they get past his wall despite his efforts to hold onto them. “I just… I needed to get out. It was so choking in there, always being compared to Feliciano and knowing that I’d never be as good as him. I’m always disappointing Grandpa in one way or another, and he doesn’t know what to do with me. He just treats me like I’m invisible now unless I do something to upset him.” Lovino hugs himself. He doesn’t know why he’s dumping all of this on a guy he met just yesterday, but now that he’s started he just can’t stop. “Everyone always judges me without saying anything. Even though they’re silent I can feel it, their stupid fucking gazes are so _sharp_. So I ran. I ran and ran until I ran out of room to run and I still needed more. When I got to the end of the ship, all I could think of was that they’d be better off without me. Maybe they’d learn how to appreciate me once I was gone.” He chews his cheek, feeling like he was being burned under Antonio’s gaze. “I was foolish.”

Antonio’s quiet for a long time. Lovino listens to the sound of the ocean lapping at the side of the Titanic, the thrumming of his heart as it pounds in his chest, until he hears Antonio sigh quietly. “Lovino, you’ll never be like your brother.”

The words stab into Lovino’s heart like a shard of glass, and he can feel hurt and betrayal pooling low in his stomach after being so open with someone he thought he could trust and having his secrets thrown back in his face. He grits his teeth, holding back tears he can feel crawling up in his eyes, about to open his mouth to shout at him, _scream_ at him, to get Antonio as far away as possible before he breaks down completely… when Antonio bites his lip and continues.

“You can never be like your brother, because he isn’t _you_.”

Lovino halts his prepared verbal assault, words caught on his tongue, and Antonio rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “You’re not _like_ Feliciano, I know that, but you can’t _be_ him either because it’s pretty impossible. He’s a whole other person, with separate feelings, separate talents, and a separate life that you can’t possibly imitate no matter what you do.” He pauses, his emerald gaze pulling back to look Lovino in the eye as he smiles softly. “You may not have figured out those talents yet: those special things that you can recognize as your own, but if you end your life before it’s even started, you’ll never find out what they _could_ be.”

Lovino has forgotten how to breathe, his neck is searingly hot and his mouth has gone dry from the intensity of the gaze that’s on him. “Fernández, I--” he croaks before Antonio cuts him off.

“Please, call me Antonio,” he says. “Oh, and Lovino?”

“What?” Lovino snaps, a little sharper than he wants when his brain has finally caught up to his embarrassment and he realizes he’s acting like a love-sick child. He finds he still can’t keep up when Antonio’s smile changes into something different: not the friendliness it was earlier nor the comforting warmth it was moments ago.

No, this one is _affectionate_.

“I prefer your smile over Feliciano’s any day,” he says, quiet and honest.

Lovino stares at him, wordless and wrapped up in the look that this man was giving him before he clears his throat after another moment longer of falling farther for Antonio. He decides it’s time to change the conversation before his heart decides to take that as anything more than he wants it to be. He swallows, searching around for something to talk about before he spies Antonio’s sketchbook under his arm and nabs it, ignoring Antonio’s short gasp of surprise. “So-- you draw? Let me see.” It’s more of a command, now that he realizes he actually grabbed it before he got permission, but Antonio doesn’t ask for it back when Lovino opens it and searches through it.

Lovino knows he should have expected that Antonio’s style would differ than Feliciano’s, but as soon as he opens the portfolio and starts leafing through it he’s again rendered speechless from what he sees. They’re mostly graphite and conté, with a few pieces done in ink, but they all still show off the same style more fantastically than the last. The images he flips past are all surprisingly earnest: two men that look like they could be brothers, a few sketches of another man with wavy locks that cut off just below his chin, and countless of other sketches of people just _living_. He passes the page with a small Agnes and Lovino can’t stop his small smile.

“These are amazing,” Lovino murmurs, and Antonio laughs a bit, sounding a little embarrassed but pleased.

“Ah, thank you. You remember me talking about my friend Gilbert, _sí_?” Antonio stops Lovino from flipping through any more pages by putting a hand on the page, pointing out a portrait of a man with sharp eyes and an even sharper grin as he hangs of the shoulder of that same wavy haired man with the stubble Lovino had seen a few times before. “This is him, and _that_ ,” he points to the other man, “is my friend Francis. They’re my roommates while I’m aboard the Titanic, along with Gilbert’s brother Ludwig. He’s in here too, but I just couldn’t get him to smile.” Antonio sighs before muttering, “I swear, that boy needs to lighten up a little bit.”

Lovino frowns, trying to glance at Antonio without the man noticing and nearly jumping out of his skin when he finds Antonio watching him closely. Lovino clears his throat before speaking. “Aren’t they wondering where you are right now?” he asks carefully, and Antonio shakes his head, grinning.

“No, they know I’m with you,” he answers smoothly, and he misses Lovino’s sharp intake of breath when he frowns and puts on a thoughtful expression. “Although Francis told me to make sure I saw him before dinner tonight. Not sure why, but….”

That reminds Lovino. “Right, about dinner--” he starts, closing the portfolio and handing it back to Antonio, cursing when their fingers brush and his heartrate kicks up. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, first of all, because my Grandpa is going to try and find every opportunity to point out how much better he is than you.”

Antonio shrugs. “I kind of figured. I mean, why else would he invite me?”

Lovino feels his cheeks burn. “That’s my fault. If I hadn’t said anything he would have just left.” He looks down at the ground. “I just… I should have watched my mouth.”

“No, I’m glad you spoke up.” Antonio’s statement startles Lovino, who looks back up when the Spaniard gently brushes at his sleeve. Antonio smiles at him, the same affectionate expression from before in his eyes. “That’s another part of you I like. You don’t keep quiet when you disagree with something. You have a spark in you, Lovino, and I’m hoping you never lose it.”

Lovino stares at Antonio for a few moments more before he feels lighter, like a load is lifted off his shoulders and he’s laughing before he can stop it as he doubles over to try and control himself. Antonio is confused, stiffening as he reaches a hand out like he wants to help but he’s not entirely sure what to do.

“Do you _always_ ,” Lovino gasps between fits of laughter, “spout such _dramatic_ bullshit when you talk to other people or am I an exception?” He continues to laugh when he sees that Antonio’s expression is surprised yet puzzled, and Lovino shakes his head and waves the statement away with a hand when Antonio smiles nervously like he’s said something wrong. “No, no. It’s not a bad thing, I swear, it’s just… so ridiculous to think about.”

Antonio screws his lips to the side momentarily before he rolls his eyes. “ _Dios mio_ , Lovino, I _like_ complimenting you. It seems like no one else really does, so I might as well give as many to you as I can before--” he cuts himself off and Lovino stops laughing to look at him as he stammers over his words. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

Lovino shrugs. “You’re not wrong. The only one who really comments positively on anything I do is Feliciano, but I feel like he’s only doing it because he doesn’t know how to be mean.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and crosses over to an empty bench, plopping down on it before motioning for Antonio to join him, looking around to see if anyone he knows is nearby before slouching. “I actually don’t think I’ve ever heard him say anything negative in my entire life.”

Antonio sits down next to the Italian, setting his portfolio between them. “Well, even though I’ve only met your brother once, I can feel like he’s just that kind of person. You two are twins, _sí_?”

Lovino snorts again. “Yeah, I’m the older of the two of us. Feliciano may only be about an hour younger than I am but he acts like he’s even younger than that. Grandpa says he’ll never grown up.”

Antonio hums, sounding a little absentminded. “Oh. I honestly thought that you were the younger twin, with how much taller Feliciano--” he stops himself when Lovino gives him a death glare, snapping his mouth shut and holding his hands up in apology. “Sorry.”

“You better be, asshole,” Lovino mutters darkly before looking back at the ocean.

 

 

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Lovino glaring at any other first class passengers that give Antonio a displeased look for being in the wrong class before Antonio clears his throat. He chooses his words carefully before he speaks.

“Do you love your brother, Lovino?”

Lovino turns at the question, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Of course I do.” He frowns a little bit, his voice getting a little softer. “He may get on my nerves and frustrate me nearly every minute he opens his mouth, but he’s my little brother, I couldn’t not love him.”

Antonio decides to press further. “And your grandfather?”

Lovino’s frown deepens and his expression darkens, but there’s a touch of sadness that doesn’t miss Antonio’s attention. “I know I did once. Now… I’m not so sure.” He sighs, biting his lip. “You know, he wasn’t always like this. He was a good man. Now he has his head shoved so far up his own ass because of all the money he has that I’m sure he can’t tell up from down.” He suddenly slaps his hand over his mouth. “Shit, if he ever heard me say that he’d fucking _kill_ me.”

Antonio laughs when he sees Lovino smiling a little. “What happened to him?” he asks when they both settle. Lovino sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t actually rich my entire life,” he says, giving Antonio a smirk. Antonio shrugs nonchalantly.

“You didn’t seem like it,” he admits. Lovino actually laughs at this and the sound sends Antonio’s heart into the clouds.

“I’m glad. I hate these people,” Lovino says. “They’re too self-absorbed. They pretend that they’re so much better than everyone else just because they have wealth.” He makes a face and crosses his arms. “And they don’t treat you right unless you’re ‘old money’, which basically just means you’ve been richer for longer than everyone else.” He scoffs and mutters a few extra things under his breath in Italian, but Antonio knows better than to ask what he was saying.

He moves on.

“So, if you haven’t been rich your whole life, where did you live?”

Lovino gives him a look and Antonio feels his heart fall when Lovino’s smile disappears and his frown returns. “Why do you want to know? What do you want?”

Antonio gives him a faint smile, trying to hide his nervousness at the thought he could say the wrong thing and Lovino would drop him for good. “I’m just curious, Lovino. I don’t want anything of yours, I promise. I just want to know more about you.”

Lovino’s hazel gaze sears into him for only a few moments longer before he looks away and across the ocean, his cheeks reddening. “I’m not _that_ interesting,” he mutters.

“I don’t know that,” Antonio says, and Lovino looks at him from the corner of his eye, his lips pursed in irritation before he sighs.

“I originally lived with my mother and Feliciano in a small country house outside of Florence,” he begins. “My parents had eloped, unknowingly to Grandpa, so they didn’t have anything. Apparently my father died before we were born, so I didn’t know him. My mother though, she did a really good job of taking care of us by herself. Grandpa popped in all of the time, but he was always cheerful and happy. We sang songs together and ate good food and Grandpa told us stories.” He closes his eyes. “I loved the old house. There was a huge field in the back and Feli and I always chased the chickens around out there. We grew most of our food, and what we couldn’t buy, Grandpa gave us. We didn’t worry too much.”

Antonio smiles, resting his head in his hand. “It sounds nice.”

Lovino smiles wistfully. “I have a lot of dreams about it. Just sitting in the back near the tomato plants while watching the sunset. It was such a long time ago, but it’s still so hard to forget. But…” he turns away, his smile disappearing. “It had to end.”

“What happened?” Antonio asks quietly. Lovino is quiet for a few moment before he rests his head against the back of the bench, staring straight up at the sky.

“ _Mamma_ and I caught Typhoid when I was about eight,” he murmurs. He makes a face. “This is when my memory goes fuzzy, because I don’t really remember much of what happened that month. I remember being in bed, feeling like hell, but everything else is blurred together. When my fever finally lifted enough for me to understand what was happening… Grandpa told me that my mother was dead and Feliciano and I were going to live with him. He stopped smiling as much, and he sent us to this boring academy until we graduated. I hated it.”

Antonio doesn’t like how sad Lovino looks. “Lovino, I’m--”

“Don’t apologize,” he snaps. He sighs then, sitting back up before staring back over the water. “You couldn’t have done anything about it, and it’s all in the past now. I’m over it.” He changes the subject quickly after that. “Grandpa seemed like a completely different person back then. He pulled us out of school for Christmas and other holidays, but he never seemed that happy ever again. He started yelling at me a lot more and paying attention to me a lot less until I sort of just faded into the background.”

They’re both quiet again, Antonio digesting what he had just listened to as Lovino rests his chin in his hand and he gazes off towards to other side of the Titanic.

“I think he hates me,” Lovino finally says. Antonio, startled by the calmness that Lovino’s voice has become, jerks his head in the other’s direction. Lovino hasn’t even moved, his hazel eyes still trained on something far away. They look more green than brown today. “He’s told me that I look like her, that I have her eyes and face. I think he hates me for it. That, and that I survived the same sickness that killed his daughter.”

“Lovino….”

Lovino then sighs, sitting up straight before stretching, focusing his gaze back on Antonio. He looks slightly annoyed. “So, now that I’ve poured out my heart and soul to you, I feel like I deserve to know a little bit more about you, considering you know my entire fucking life story now.”

Antonio is only happy to oblige. He entertains Lovino with stories about back home, about all the trouble his own family gave him and all the good times too. He tells Lovino about how he met Francis and Gilbert when he was around thirteen, about how he’s known Ludwig since he was small, and how one time Francis had taken him to Paris and Antonio had met a one-legged prostitute who had very beautiful hands. He even opens his portfolio and shows him the pictures he had drawn of them. He keeps the topics running so Lovino doesn’t have to think of any, and at first Lovino doesn’t say much, hiding a smile here and there, but as the hours go by and they just talk, Lovino ends up smiling a lot more and laughing, which makes Antonio wish that it’d never end.

Before he realizes it, the sun is already setting as he’s finishing a story about the one time they had to hide Francis from a girl who found out he had slept with her sister.

“So this girl is walking up the steps, right? And Gilbert is laughing his ass off, so he’s being no sort of help, and it’s up to me to get her to stay downstairs!”

Lovino raises an eyebrow, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Francis sounds like a terrible person, treating girls like that.” There’s no bite to his words, but Antonio has noticed it’s a bit of a habit for Lovino to badmouth people before he really meets them.

“Ah, he’s not that bad, Lovino,” Antonio says breezily before continuing. “This girl is not listening to me at all, swearing up and down in German so I understand very little of it, so I turn to Gilbert and tell him--”

Lovino looks behind Antonio and suddenly goes white, leaping up out of his seat and clearing his throat. “Grandpa--!”

Antonio freezes, in the middle of his story and whipping his head to see Roma himself standing next to a posse of other well dressed men, giving a hard look down at Lovino. He feels himself smile reflexively, standing as well as he grabs his portfolio and shoves it under his arm, trying to ignore how standing this close to Roma wearing that expression of disdain is making him sweat. “Mr. Vargas!”

Roma doesn’t even pretend to notice him and keeps his stern gaze on Lovino as he speaks. “You weren’t at lunch today.” It’s not a question. Lovino opens his mouth to argue, but after another second of deliberation he shuts his mouth, nodding slowly. Antonio gives him a wary look before Lovino clears his throat.

“I wasn’t hungry,” Lovino explains. “I was just outside enjoying the sun, and then I ran into An--ah, Mr. Fernández, and he showed me his drawings.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Fernández.” Roma finally stops acting like Antonio is invisible and turns to him. “This is the man that saved my grandson last night,” he introduces, accent heavy, and several of the men make humming noises and little noises of approval.

“Ah-- it was nothing,” Antonio says, catching Lovino’s look that tells him to watch what he says and not say too much. He puts on a dazzling smile, hoping it’ll soften the tense atmosphere that’s formed around them after Roma had talked to Lovino. “I’m looking forward to eating with you this evening, _señor_.”

Roma gives a tight-lipped smile. “Of course. I hope you’ll be joining us this evening as well, Lovino, even after skipping your lunch,” he replies somewhat coldly, shooting a look to the boy, who gives a small nod. “The dinner bell is about to ring, let’s be on our way.” He turns and walks away, his posse following along behind him. The tallest one, whom Antonio had recognized as the man who had come with Roma the night previously, looks over his shoulder at them until they turn the corner, out of sight.

Lovino lets out a breath, hissing something in Italian before he runs a hand through his hair. “I guess that story is going to have to wait until later,” he mutters. He looks back at Antonio, looking somewhat apologetic. “I have to go change before dinner. You still have to catch up with your friend, don’t you?”

Antonio gasps, pushing his bangs out of his face. “Oh _Dios mio_ , I nearly forgot! Thank you for reminding me, Lovino!” He grimaces. “Ack-- Francis is going to be furious with me now that I’ve probably kept him waiting.”

Lovino looks amused, smiling wryly. “Well, I’ll see you at dinner then, Antonio. Don’t worry about anything, I’ll help you through the entire ordeal.” He crosses in front of Antonio to follow after his grandfather, pausing a moment before looking over his shoulder for a split second. His face flushes and he nods once before retreating the deck.

Antonio puts a hand to his cheek.

“Oh, what am I going to do now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im hoping that sunday will be update day for this fic. im also thinking that this fic may have up to 10 chapters?? it really depends in how i divide things and edit.
> 
> thank you for all the continued support!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "As long as my loved ones are happy and safe, that’s all that matters.” He pulls his wineglass to his lips and gives Roma a dark smile. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Vargas?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have a new minor character we meet this chapter!! and there's an awkward dinner party to go along with him ahaha
> 
> please enjoy!!

To say that Francis was furious was an understatement.

Antonio could have said that Francis was a bubbling volcano of pure, unadulterated rage and he would have been a _little_ closer.

“Where have you been, you _imbécile_?” Francis hisses as he walks into their cabin, causing Antonio to snap to attention. Ludwig is gone, Gilbert watching as the restless Frenchman grabs a surprised Antonio by the collar before shutting their door closed and dragging him to the opposite side of the room. He jerks the art portfolio out from under Antonio’s arm and tosses it to the bed beside him before pulling the Spaniard’s suspenders off and stomping to the bed before.

“Yeah, where have you been, Toni?” Gilbert asks lazily from his own bed, peering down from the top bunk. “It’s dinner time.”

“ _Oui_ , it’s dinner time and you’re still dressed like a _farmer_ before you’re about to go into _first class_ ,” Francis seethes before Antonio has time to answer. Antonio frowns, looking down at his clothes, his expression offended.

“I don’t look like a farm-- ack!!” His complaint is cut off as a dress shirt is thrown in his face. “I’m sorry, okay?” he whines.

“Just put that on, and take off those godawful ratty slacks so you can put on these dress pants,” Francis orders. “You need to look presentable if you’re dining with Augustus Vargas.”

“Hey, I like these ratty slacks!” Antonio says defensively, but he still complies with the blond as he pulls off his shirt and starts unbuttoning his slacks with a huffed sigh. “And how do you know Lovino’s grandfather? I thought his name was Roma.”

Francis gives him an incredulous look, like Antonio has just told him something so ridiculous that it belongs in a fairy tale. “Are you pulling my leg, Antonio? Or do you really not know who the grandfather of the boy _you fell in love with_ is?”

Antonio opens his mouth helplessly, glancing at Gilbert for an explanation, who just shrugs. “Don’t look at me, Toni. I don’t know what he’s talking about either.” He looks back to Francis, who’s covered his face with his hands and he’s whispering bits of French Antonio can’t understand, but he knows it’s probably better that he doesn’t.

“N-No?” Antonio tries, voice unsure. Francis wails like he’s in pain and Gilbert starts snickering, trying to stifle it with a bitten lip when Francis glares at him, but still failing miserably when a few snorts of laughter escape.

“I’m glad _you_ think this is funny, Gilbert. At least _one_ of us knows how to find humor in this situation!” he fumes. He throws up his hands before dragging them down his face, turning to face Antonio with a despairing look. “Antonio, I love you, don’t get me wrong, but I worry about you so much sometimes I’m going to get an ulcer someday.”

Gilbert can’t help himself and starts laughing uncontrollably. Antonio smiles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “Um, thank you?”

Francis just sighs, throwing the pair of slacks Antonio’s way. “ _Mon_ _Dieu_ , Antonio. Haven’t you ever heard of the Vargas name before? Maybe in one of my rants?”

Antonio catches the dress pants easily and steps into them, shaking his head as he pulls them up. “Most of your rants are in French, Francis,” he says, laughing timidly. “I don’t speak French.”

“He’s got you there, Francis,” Gilbert says after another moment of laughter, gasping. “Even _I_ don’t know what you’re saying when you fly off the handle.”

Francis sighs, pulling a waistcoat off the pile of clothes he’s gathered as he makes his way over to Antonio. “Ever since you said the name Lovino last night, I’d been thinking. That name was so familiar to me! Well, turns out, your boyfriend is the grandson of a very well known Italian fashion designer: Augustus Vargas. I’ve been watching his work for years. _That’s_ \--” he smoothes out the wrinkles in Antonio’s collar as he flips it up, “-- where he gets all of his money, and also why you can’t be parading around in farmer clothes in his presence. Roma is his nickname: a lot of his colleges use it.” Antonio frowns at the boyfriend comment, continuing to button up the dress shirt.

"He's not my boyfriend, Francis," he argues softly. 

Gilbert snorts, grinning. "Yeah, sure. Not yet."

Francis busies himself with tucking in Antonio's shirt, forcibly turning the Spaniard around to face his front before his hands turn gentle.

“You were with Lovino all of today, weren’t you?” the blond asks suddenly, knowingly, his voice quiet as his hands deftly unbutton the white waistcoat and pull it around his friend, helping him into it.

Antonio nods, feeling himself smile. “ _Sí_ ,” he replies. He closes his eyes, letting himself drift back to their lazy afternoon together, warm smiles and their gently brushing fingers playing on repeat in the back of his mind. “I found out a lot about him. He has a younger twin named Feliciano and they just shared their 19th birthday only last month.” His voice grows soft, a bit wistful, and he sighs. “He has a beautiful laugh, but sometimes he forgets that he has it. He seems very sad.”

Francis works with buttoning up the waistcoat, but pauses a moment to take a look at Antonio’s expression, pulling his eyebrows together in a split-second of something unrecognizable before he sighs and reaches for the bow tie. He ties it perfectly when Antonio’s distracted with his thoughts, fixing the lapels on the waistcoat before stepping back and patting Antonio on the shoulder to snap him to attention. The Spaniard jumps a little, almost like he’s been startled, and Francis smiles at him.

“Almost done, I promise,” he says, returning and pulling at a pair of dress shoes and hanging a black tail coat over his arm. Antonio purses his lips.

“Where did you get these, Francis?” he asks, taking the tail coat from his friend when it’s offered to him and sliding it over his shoulders. It’s nearly a perfect fit, but still a bit tight around his shoulders and upper arms. Antonio has never worn anything so fancy in his entire life, and even though Francis had always dressed nice normally, he’s never seen the blond with such nice clothes either. His brain instantly starts wandering, thinking about all the illegal ways that Francis could have gotten the dress wear and he starts to worry.

Francis notices his deepening frown and snorts, handing off the shoes as he pulls a comb out of his front pocket. “All of those things you’re wearing belong to me, if you’re worried about it. We may be essentially the same height, but your shoulders are broader than mine. Notice how the coat is a little tight around your upper arms and across your back? I'm not very skilled with tailoring, so I can't help you with that. Now quit your worrying: put on your shoes so I can do something with that hair.”

Antonio does as he’s told, even letting Francis comb his hair back without too many complaints, and before long Francis is standing back, hand on his chin in a thoughtful expression as he admires his handiwork. Gilbert lets out a low whistle as Antonio looks down at himself, spinning in a circle before holding out his arms.

“So?” Antonio says nervously, head still down and his green gaze peeking up through his lashes. “How do I look?”

“Ready to kill,” Gilbert grins, but Francis rolls his eyes.

“I did my best work, of _course_ he looks ready to kill,” he mutters, along with a few extra things in French that Antonio doesn’t quite catch. Francis looks up then, smiling a little. “You look very handsome, _mon ami_. Just.... make sure you don’t ruin my dresswear this evening.”

Antonio face lights up like stars and he laughs, surging forward and crushing the blond in a huge, surprise bearhug. _“¡Muchas gracias, mi querido! Te debo una, realmente, me comprometo a mantener su ropa limpia--”_

“Yes, yes, I know. Francis is the best friend you could ever have, you don’t know what you would do without me,” he pretends to translate, rolling his eyes. He pulls back a second later, fixing Antonio’s hair and smoothing down his lapels again. “Don’t forget about the gloves in your left pocket. Only wear them until you sit down to eat.” He sighs, looking his friend top to bottom one more time before he claps his hands together and winks. “Now go to dinner. Sweep your little Italian off his feet with your dashing good looks before someone else does.”

Antonio’s smile falls slightly. “Do you really think someone would do that?”

Gilbert groans. “Just go! You don’t have a lot of time to be fucking around, you know?”

Antonio nearly leaps out of his skin, nodding before speaking so rapidly in Spanish that Francis and Gilbert just shoo him out without asking him to explain. Francis goes to close the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle after the Spaniard has gone, Gilbert looking back towards him. He’s staring at the the floor with a melancholy expression.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks gently, his voice quiet so Francis wouldn’t be startled by it, but he still visibly flinches like the words are the things that hurt, not the tone. The blond keeps his eyes trained on the floor a moment longer before his gaze moves back up to the door and he sighs, pulling his hand away from the handle and crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

“He’s never kept me waiting before, you know? I can’t keep him forever,” he says quietly. “And I can’t make him as happy as that boy has been making him. I have to let him go.”

Gilbert doesn’t say anything more, and the two of them fade off into silence.

 

 

 

Antonio manages to arrive at the Grand Staircase before Lovino has even shown up for the evening. Originally, he tries to stay out of the sight of most of the first class passengers, fearing that gaze that Lovino has warned him about, but then he notices that none of them are glaring at him like when he was out on the deck earlier that day. He feels confusion for a split second until he realizes it’s because of the way he’s dressed and they can’t tell him apart from their usual companions, and then he thanks Francis over and over again in his head as he waits.

It’s not much later that Roma descends with the same man Antonio recognized on the deck at his side again. Neither of them pay any attention to him. In fact, they bypass him all together, even when Antonio extends his hand in greeting. Antonio doesn’t entirely mind, he feels like he doesn’t need to impress anyone except for Lovino now, but he does spy at them when he knows they aren’t looking to see how they act so he can mimic them. He knows that because he’s not speaking right now he can pass as a first class passenger, but as soon as me makes one wrong move he’ll be the subject of every elderly woman’s strict glare.

He doesn’t even realize that Lovino and Feliciano have arrived until he hears a very bright and sunny “Mr. Fernández!” call from the stairs. He turns, seeing the Vargas twins making their way down the staircase, dressed in nice tailcoats like Antonio is wearing. The only difference is the color of their waistcoats, Lovino’s a dark burgundy and Feliciano’s a deep green. Antonio doesn’t have much time to observe, however, because it’s not long before he’s face to face with the two. Feliciano looks ecstatic to see him with rosy cheeks and a beaming smile, Lovino frowning at his brother and Antonio before looking away with a flush in his cheeks.

Antonio briefly wonders how he’s lucky enough to be in the presence of a pair of angels.

“It’s so good to see you again!” Feliciano chirps, hands pulled behind his back. Now that he’s standing in front of Antonio, he can really see how similar these brothers were in appearance. Feliciano looks nearly identical to Lovino, but his hair is a lighter auburn and his eyes are a warm honey brown, his cheeks a little more pink than olive-toned. He also has a strand of hair that refuses to stay flat, opposite to the one Lovino has, which baffles Antonio to no end but he forces himself not to say anything about it.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Mr. Vargas,” he replies merrily, and Feliciano makes a face at the name before he laughs. Even through his surprise at the action Antonio can’t help but notice that the giggle is different sounding than Lovino’s, but almost as equally angelic. Feliciano’s laugh is bubbly and bright like the sky on a sunny day, while Lovino’s is gentle and sweet, warming Antonio up from the inside. He decides it’s time to stop comparing the two of them when he catches Lovino’s stern gaze and near-permanent frown, and pulls his attention away from his thoughts and back to the youngest Vargas as Feliciano’s eyes do a quick sweep of the room before leaning in a little.

“If you can call Lovino by his first name, then just call me Feliciano,” he says quietly. Antonio internally sighs in relief, because he just couldn’t handle all these formalities.

“Then please do the same -- call me Antonio,” he insists. Feliciano thinks about if for a moment before looking towards where his grandfather was standing, talking to a few other guests a few yards away. He bites his lip, glancing back at Lovino.

“Maybe when Grandpa isn’t around,” he says quietly. “It’s not really proper for me to address someone like that. Grandpa will get mad.” He smiles shyly. “Please don’t think I’m being rude, it’s just… Grandpa gets scary when he’s mad, and I don’t really like when he gets scary.” His eyes flicker over to Lovino for a moment, who doesn’t seem to notice. “But if I see you any time else, Mr. Antonio, I’ll definitely--”

“Feliciano!!” Roma barks, and Feliciano squeaks. Lovino bites his lip, guilt filling his face when he sees his brother flinch but he masks it quickly. Feliciano turns, speaking quickly in Italian to Lovino and the older of the two flushes, shaking his head, but Feliciano takes his brother's hands comfortingly and shakes his own head like he was choosing to ignore Lovino dismissing him. The youngest Vargas smiles brightly before turning back to Antonio.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Mr. Antonio!” he says cheerfully, letting go of his brother’s hands before trotting off towards his grandfather. Antonio waits until he’s gone before he reaches for Lovino’s hand, pulling it to his lips and leaving a gentle kiss on his gloved knuckles. Lovino’s face explodes into red and starts stammering out a question before Antonio smiles nervously.

“I saw that in a nickelodeon once,” he admits quietly. “I wanted to try it at least once.”

Lovino stares for a second later before he snorts, snickering a bit to cover up his embarrassment before Antonio lets go of his hand.

“Y-You clean up nice,” Lovino mutters, averting his eyes. Antonio wants to say that Lovino does too, because this is somehow the best Lovino has ever looked in all the times that he’s seen him, but Lovino always looks and dresses so nice he feels like saying so would just be redundant.

“You look even better,” is what he finally settles on, and Lovino’s eyes widen for a moment before he cracks a tiny smile.

“Of course I do,” he says simply, but Antonio knows by the color of Lovino’s cheeks that he’s flattered. “Come on, let’s not keep Grandpa waiting.” Lovino tells Antonio to follow him, his voice a low murmur as they weave in and out between the rich passengers of first class. “Don’t worry about how you act too much,” he murmurs easily, his voice low. “Just act like you’ve got money and you’ll be fine.”

Lovino goes on to point out the few people he remembers, telling about all the scandal and gossip that he’s learned from listening to the women talk during tea. Antonio is incredibly polite to all of them, giving them a bright smile and a warm welcome as Lovino explains to them who Antonio was and why he was there. There’s even a man that, after learning Antonio’s last name, asks if he’s related to another Fernández that Antonio has never heard of, so he quietly declines.

After a few minutes of introductions, however, Antonio can see why Lovino doesn’t really enjoy being around all of these people. All of their attention seems too forced, they smile very rarely, and since many of them are English they hold an air of superiority over him that makes Antonio feel a little ill. Even though there is the occasional genuinely nice person, it’s not enough to balance out the bad.

He also doesn’t like how strained Lovino’s smiles are.

There’s a man that finally catches Antonio’s eye as they make their way through the rest of the introductions of the evening. The man carries himself elegantly, nicely dressed like the rest of the men in the room, and his face is very beautiful. He’s sitting by himself at a table, looking out the window he’s seated next to. Antonio isn’t really caught up with the beauty of the man’s face, seeing as Lovino is next to him, but instead he’s struck by a sense of deja vu, like’s he’s seen the man before. Maybe it’s something about the beauty mark next to his mouth, or the tuft of hair that curls up from his part, but Antonio is left staring at this man wondering who he was.

“Lovino,” Antonio asks quietly, getting the Italian’s attention and motioning to the man on the other side of the room. “Who is that?”

“Hmm? Oh, him?” Lovino thinks for a moment. “That’s Roderich … Edelstein? Austrian, if I remember correctly. He likes to play the piano during the day, and he’s pretty good I guess. He’s Jewish, so a lot of the old hags gossip about him at tea time.” Lovino scowls, looking away. “Selfish pricks.”

Antonio can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What?” Lovino’s voice is startled.

Antonio smiles excitedly, glancing down at Lovino like he can’t believe it either. “I know him-- we were old friends! I met him around the same time I met Gilbert, oh my God, this is incredible. Can we go see him, _por favor?”_

Lovino screws his lips to the side, pulling his eyebrows together. “You don’t have to ask me, you know. Come on, let’s go.”

They break away from the area where Roma is standing, crossing the room to get to the Austrian sitting by himself. He doesn’t look up when the two of them approach him, so Antonio’s not sure if he didn’t notice them arrive or if he’s choosing to ignore them.

“Um, _perdón_ ,” Antonio says, his voice a little shaky so he clears his throat. He has no idea why he’s nervous if this is really the Roderich he knew. “Roderich?”

Roderich looks up from his cup of tea, violet eyes widening slightly when he sees the Spaniard talking to him before his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Antonio…?”

Antonio beams. _“¡Sí!”_ he says delightfully, sticking out his hand. “It’s been so long, my friend!”

Roderich smiles gracefully, standing up and taking the outstretched hand in his own. His fingers are just as thin and gentle as Antonio remembers them. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it? Nearly five years.” His expression morphs back into confusion. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

Antonio pulls away to bring Lovino into the conversation, who nods without saying anything else. “This is Lovino Vargas. I sort of saved his life yesterday, so he’s letting me have a wonderful experience in first class.” Roderich looks closely at Lovino for a few seconds before he puts out his hand to shake. Lovino does what’s expected of him, watching Roderich’s movements closely so he knows the proper way to act around him.

“You’re Feliciano’s brother: the quiet one with the nice voice. I’m Roderich Edelstein,” Roderich introduces, smiling gently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m glad you’re safe.” Lovino blinks before he blushes a little, overwhelmed by how polite this man was.

Antonio smiles a little bit when Lovino murmurs a quiet, “Nice to meet you too.”

“There’s no need to act like that around me, Lovino, Feliciano’s told me you have a fiery temper.” Roderich smiles. “Treat me as you would treat a person normally.” He turns his attention back to Antonio. “That’s not entirely what I meant though, Antonio,” Roderich says. “What I _meant_ was, what in the world are you doing here on the Titanic?”

“Oh! That! I’m sorry!” Antonio laughs a little bit in embarrassment at his misinterpretation of the question before he straightens himself out. “Gilbert, Francis, Ludwig and I are moving to America so we can get a fresh start. I want to learn a little more when it comes to art, Francis is pursuing his career, and Gilbert and Ludwig are coming along for the ride.”

Roderich then seems to pale considerably, his jaw tightening. A ripple of emotions seem to go through him, but Antonio can’t figure them all out before the Austrian finds his voice. When he speaks next, Antonio can’t even seem to pick up on the emotion that’s hiding underneath. Roderich almost looks… upset? “Gilbert is aboard? Gilbert Beilschmidt?”

Antonio cocks his head to the side. “Yes? I only know one Gilbert.”

Roderich pushes his glasses up father on the bridge of his nose, his expression seemingly blank but his eyes in deep turmoil. “I see,” he replies after another few moments.

He doesn’t say anything else.

“Antonio, we have to get to the dinner table,” Lovino says after another couple seconds of silence. He turns back to the Austrian who seems lost in thought, nodding to him. “It was nice meeting you Roderich, but we have to go.”

Roderich seems to snap himself out of his thought process and nods back, smiling again, but he seems distracted. “Yes, of course. Have a good evening.” He looks back at Antonio momentarily, debating internally before he nods to him as well. “Give… give my regards to Gilbert and the others, will you?”

Antonio smiles. “Of course!”

Roderich returns to his seat still looking troubled, which worries Antonio a little but he doesn’t have time to when Lovino grabs him by the arm.

“You can see him later,” Lovino promises. “I just need you over here right now.” His grip is near painful, his pace quickening in anxiety and Antonio smiles.

“Come on, Lovino,” Antonio murmurs cheerfully. “It’s only dinner. How bad could it be?”

Apparently, it could be very bad.

Dinner is a bigger challenge than Antonio first hopes. Roma seats him between a Turkish man named Sadiq (the same man that always seemed to be standing next to Augustus Vargas) and a Greek man named Heracles, choosing to seat Lovino between himself and Feliciano. Antonio discovers that the Greek and Turk didn’t seem to get along very well, feeling like he was slowly being crushed from the amount of tension coming from either side of him. Lovino keeps shooting him apologetic looks from across the table the entire dinner, helping him with the eating portions of the meal (when Antonio looked down and saw three forks and two spoons) by pointing which utensil was to be used during each course when Roma wasn’t looking.

“So, Mr. Fernández,” Roma finally begins after they’ve finished the final course and they’re drinking wine, the whole table starting up light, after-meal conversations. Lovino shoots his grandfather a wary look before he looks like he braces himself, and Antonio finds himself doing the same. Roma doesn’t seem to notice the heightened tension, and swirls his glass around in his hand. “Where do you live?”

Antonio, expecting a more explosive taunt, nearly lets out a breath of relief at the lax question before he realizes it would be rude. “I was born and raised outside of Barcelona,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “But as of right now, my home is the RMS Titanic.” He takes a sip of his wine to hide his nerves.

One of the girls dining with them gasps. She’s very young, probably only as old as Lovino, but Antonio can tell she was born and raised knowing how much money she had. “You don’t have a house? But isn’t it unappealing having such a rootless life?”

Antonio laughs a little, his hand finding the back of his neck out of habit. “Well, not entirely. I have all that I need, don’t I? I came here with my very good friends, my art portfolio and some drawing tools, so what more could I need?”

“Mr. Fernández is a fantastic artist,” Lovino cuts in, trying to change the topic of the conversation. “I was looking at some of his drawings today.”

“Yes, just like you told me, Lovino,” Roma says. He turns the conversation back to Antonio without skipping a beat, brushing his grandson’s remark away. “You don’t worry that you won’t be able to find a place to live once you get to America?”

Antonio doesn’t like the way Roma casually pushed aside Lovino’s comment, so he squares his shoulders at Roma and laughs again, this time a little louder. “Well, to be honest with you, Mr. Vargas, I wonder about a lot of things! I try to keep an easygoing sort of attitude about things, but I always put my loved ones first. If someone who I loved was unhappy because of something I had done, it would make me kind of a monster, right? That’s why I don’t fuss over little things I can’t change, and I enjoy myself along the way. As long as my loved ones are happy and safe, that’s all that matters.” He pulls his wineglass to his lips and gives Roma a dark smile. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Vargas?”

Lovino is staring at him, his eyes blown wide in shock with his mouth hanging open after Antonio's obvious verbal assault on his grandfather, but he quickly recovers, pulling a napkin to his mouth to hide a smile that’s pulling at the corners of his lips. Even Feliciano looks a little shocked by the direct attack, eyes darting between Lovino, his grandfather, and Antonio quickly. Roma, however, meets Antonio’s look evenly, giving him a tight lipped smirk.

“Well said, Mr. Fernández,” he says, raising his glass. Antonio doesn’t know whether or not the statement is sarcastic or not, but the brightness of Lovino’s eyes is enough to make him not care. The others at the table raise their glasses as well, and Antonio can almost feel how happy Lovino is from across the table at the reaction, and also when Roma doesn’t say anything more about Antonio.

Finally, there’s a woman who pushes a cart over with cigars in it, and many of the men at the table stand up, Roma being one of them. Lovino leans over to Antonio when Sadiq and Heracles get up as well, speaking to him in a hissed whisper when they’re out of earshot, eyes blazing. “What the hell is _wrong_ with you? Do you have a death wish? Grandpa was ready to skewer you with his knife.” He shakes his head before Antonio can answer. “You know what? Fuck it. You knew exactly what you were doing. I saw the look on your face, you crazy bastard.”

Antonio smiles proudly, but jerks his head towards the gathering of males at the end of the table around the cart. “Where is everyone going?”

Lovino motions to the trolley. “It’s time brandies and cigars in the Smoking room.”

One of the elderly men, an English businessman, finally speaks up. “Would some of you care to join me for a brandy?” There are several positive replies from the others.

Lovino gives Antonio a knowing look and he rolls his eyes before his lips curl up into a devious smirk. He adds, “Now all they do is sit around and talk about how great they are for being masters of the universe, puffing on so many bad smelling cigars that it permanently damages the air quality of the ship.”

Feliciano, being between them, hears his brother’s comment and he bites his lip to hide his growing smile, giggling a little to himself. He stops when he sees Roma turn to face Antonio, giving both of his grandsons a warning look from the corner of his eye.

“What about you, Mr. Fernández?”

Antonio stands, shaking his head. “I have to head back,” he replies. Lovino face falls at the comment, but doesn’t speak out about his disappointment over it, staring down at his wine glass.

Roma hums, deep and thoughtful. “Well, I suppose it’s for the best. We’ll only be discussing politics and business: things an artist such as yourself wouldn’t be interested in. Thank you for your presence here with us tonight, I hope you have a good evening.” He holds out his hand and Antonio shakes it, smiling widely, before Roma pulls away and leaves with the rest of his posse to their next destination. Lovino waits until he’s gone before he stands.

“Are you really leaving now?” he asks, and even Feliciano seems saddened by the Spaniard’s departure. Antonio smiles and reaches over, taking Lovino’s hand gently.

“Yes, I have to give Francis back the clothes I’ve borrowed. He’ll have my head if something happens to them,” he laughs. “Goodnight, Lovino. Goodnight Feliciano.”

 

 

 

When Antonio leaves, Lovino immediately shoves the piece of paper the Spaniard had slipped into his hand down into his inner breast pocket so Feliciano doesn’t notice it.

“Let’s just go back to our room, Feliciano,” he says, and Feliciano nods as they both stand. He hoped that his brother wouldn’t notice anything wrong with him, as his hands are shaking in excitement at the aspect of having a secret note. He waits until Feliciano skips ahead a bit before he pulls the slip out of his pocket and devours whatever’s written.

 

_Enjoy life along the way. Meet me at the clock._

 

A shiver of excitement goes through Lovino at the aspect of disobeying his grandfather and going after Antonio. He wanted to meet with him? Why? The words make his heart race, thinking of all the different reasons that the Spaniard could have wanted to meet with him. His heart is pounding so fast and loud, he doesn’t even hear Feliciano call his name at first at first. He nearly jumps out of his skin, nearly fumbling the paper before stowing it away in his pocket again, hoping that his brother hasn’t noticed him, but he knows he has. He bites his lip when he looks up to find his younger twin staring at him, big brown eyes wide and curious.

“What was that?” Feliciano asks, and if Lovino didn’t know him better than anyone else, he would have said that Feliciano had said it _innocently_. Lovino runs a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes and clearing his throat.

“You’re seeing things,” Lovino says smoothly. “Let’s just go back to our room.” He tries to walk past Feliciano but his brother just steps in front of him, his expression hard. Lovino frowns. “Get out of the way, Feliciano.”

Feliciano doesn’t move an inch. “I’m not wrong: you have something in your pocket. Antonio gave it to you, didn’t he?” Lovino opens his mouth to lie, to get Feliciano off his case, because he knows that if his brother finds out there is no way that Grandpa wouldn’t find out about it later. He crosses his arms tightly.

“I don’t have anything, Feliciano. Leave me alone,” he growls. Feliciano frowns momentarily before his face morphs into something that’s a mix between hurt and anger.

“I’m not stupid, Lovino. Don’t treat me like everyone else does,” he says, and his brother’s tone splits Lovino’s heart in two. Lovino bites his lip, hand moving on its own to get the message out of his pocket, but he hesitates.

“Feliciano, I don’t….”

“I won’t tell Grandpa. I promise,” Feliciano states. Lovino shuts his eyes tightly, sighing before he reaches for his pocket and clutches the paper tightly, pulling it out. He doesn’t realize how fast Feliciano is moving until the paper is gone from his hands. Lovino looks up to see his brother staring at the paper, his lips screwed to the side, and the eldest twin feels his heart drop into his feet, lurching forward to snag the paper from Feliciano’s fingers.

“Feli, no!”

Feliciano’s eyes widen, biting his lip as he lets Lovino snatch it back out of his hands, holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Lovi, you--”

“Just go and tell Grandpa already so he can ruin something else I care about,” Lovino hisses, nearly crushing the paper in his fist. Of course it would happen this way, of course Feli had to be the one that ruined everything, all because Lovino couldn’t handle seeing his little brother cry for being left out of something he had no business knowing in the first place. Feliciano looks confused after Lovino’s outburst, then hurt, and he shakes his head.

“I told you before, _fratello_ , I’m not going to tell Grandpa,” he repeats. The younger twin smiles weakly. “I’m _happy_ for you.”

The words cause Lovino to freeze. “What?”

Feliciano eases a little bit when he sees Lovino’s finished yelling, his smile widening. “I’m happy for you, Lovi! I see the way you look at him. He makes you happy.” Feliciano sighs, looking at the ground. “I haven’t seen you like this since… well, since before _Mamma_ died. You really hated the academy, and you and Grandpa were always at each other’s throats.” Feliciano shrugs. “I felt pretty useless, not being able to make you feel better.”

“You did make me feel better,” Lovino insists, his tone fragile, but Feliciano shakes his head.

“Not the way Mr. Antonio has been,” Feliciano decides. “That’s why I want you to go. I won’t tell Grandpa. He doesn’t need to know about this. It’s not hurting anyone.”

Lovino feels his voice crack. “Feliciano, thank--”

“I just want you to know one thing, Lovino.” Feliciano cuts off Lovino’s thanks to stare at him hard, his face more serious than Lovino had ever seen it before, his golden eyes burning with a sense of protectiveness. “If he hurts you, I won’t hesitate to tell Grandpa about this.”

Lovino doesn't falter, even under Feliciano’s stern gaze. “He won’t.”

Feliciano stares a moment longer before he breaks into a smile, all sort of seriousness fading away as he laughs. “Then go! Enjoy life along the way!”

Lovino flushes a little. “Shut up, Feliciano,” he mumbles, but his tone betrays his true feelings. Sure enough, his little brother laughs knowingly, and Lovino just turns around completely, heading towards the Grand Staircase where he knew Antonio was waiting for him.

He wasn't going to waste this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaah im excited about the next chapter!! i've really been looking forward to posting it since i wrote it. next chapter is also the one i'm going to start adding minor relationship tags, but there's only two to look forward to.
> 
> thank you for all the continued support!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You wanna see what a real party is like?” he asks, winking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!! i'm adding my first minor relationship tag with the addition of this next chapter. thanks for sticking with me this long, this chapter was all sorts of fun to write, so i hope you enjoy!!

There are barely any other passengers in this part of the ship now that it's getting kind of late, a few here and there in groupings, but no one that Lovino knows his grandfather has bothered learning. Stepping quickly and quietly, he looks around when he enters the broad room with the Grande Staircase, double checking he wasn’t being spied on by one of his grandfather’s colleagues before he stops and hides behind a pillar. There was really no need to, but Lovino can't help himself. He feels like he’s doing something illegal, going out behind Roma’s back, and it makes his heart quiver in excitement.

He takes a deep breath, composing himself and making sure his excited grin is wiped from his face, before turning to climb the steps when he stops.

Roderich Edelstein is with Antonio.

Antonio looks concerned, a hand on Roderich’s shoulder as the Austrian man shakes his head. They don’t seem like they’re arguing, Antonio even smiles a little bit, but a sharp pang of jealousy seems to plant itself despite his brain telling him it was silly. Maybe it was how comfortable they looked with one another, or maybe it was the look in Antonio’s eyes, but something about the two has Lovino feeling envy deep in his heart.

He decides to stay out of sight until their conversation is finished, half-wanting to see the remainder of the conversation and how it played out, but he’s kept waiting much shorter than he expects when Roderich turns away, bidding a farewell before climbing the rest of the steps.

Antonio waves before his expression falls, running a nervous hand through his hair. His shoulders sink in a deep sigh and he turns back to the clock, putting his hands in his pockets with his back to the bottom of the stairs. It’s now that Lovino steps out from behind the pillar, hesitating once again at the bottom of the steps when Roderich enters his mind once again.

Should he…?

He looks back up at Antonio’s shoulders, remembering the slip of paper in his pocket, and takes a deep breath.

Of course he should.

Lovino starts scaling the Grand Staircase, heart rate flying and feeling a little lightheaded. _Keep calm_ , Lovino tells himself. _Keep yourself calm. Don’t freak out._ Antonio invited you to meet with him, he obviously likes you enough to want you to come , so don’t ruin this. Lovino kicks himself when Antonio turns at the sounds of footsteps, smiling brightly when he sees it’s who he was waiting for, and Lovino’s heart nearly stutters to a stop.

“So, I met you at your clock,” Lovino says immediately when he steps onto the landing. He tries to keep his voice short so he doesn’t seem too overeager. “What now?”

Antonio doesn’t seem at all offended at the snappiness in Lovino’s tone; he even laughs a little at it as he takes Lovino’s hand.

“You wanna see what a real party is like?” he asks, winking.

Lovino tries to hide the thrill in his voice, relishing the feeling of Antonio’s warm hand around his own. “ _Anything_ will be better than sitting around a table quietly for an hour.”

Antonio’s smile seems to widen before he turns to look down the steps. “Of course you can come too if you want, Feliciano!”

Lovino frowns. “Feliciano?” He whips his head to look down the stairs when he hears a familiar squeak, a head darting back behind the pillar so quickly he barely sees it. He still recognizes that telltale auburn hair and he feels his frown deepen into a scowl. “ _Feliciano_.”

The head pokes back out for another second before Feliciano flinches and disappears again, Antonio snickering behind him as the younger twin steps out from behind the pillar, his head hanging down and his hands covering his face.

“ _Mi dispiace_ , Lovino,” he mumbles, his voice muffled. His entire face is red in his embarrassment, the whole way from the base of his neck to his ears. Antonio is still laughing boisterously at the situation so Lovino punches him in the arm to shut him up.

“This isn’t funny, bastard,” he snarls, and Antonio smothers his snickers with a hand but the smack isn’t enough to get him to stop. Lovino seethes and glowers down at the younger Italian at the bottom of the steps hiding his face shamefully. “ _Why are you following me?_ ” he asks flatly, speaking in Italian so only his brother can understand him, wanting nothing more than to throttle both Feliciano for stalking him and Antonio for thinking it was funny.

Feliciano waves his hands in front of his face, his eyes wide.

“I wasn’t following you, I promise!” he defends himself in English quickly before he bites his lip. “Okay, maybe I was, but it wasn’t on purpose! I was trying to go back to the room, _sì?_ But then I realized that if you were still gone when Grandpa came back and I was the only one in the room, it would have been really suspicious and he would have known right away you were doing something you shouldn’t have been! So I came back around to the staircase so I could get back to the deck and sit out there for a little while, but I saw you hiding behind the pillar when Mr. Antonio was talking with Mr. Edelstein and--”

Antonio looks surprised. “You saw that?” he asks, Feliciano’s rambling continuing on behind their conversation. Lovino blushes furiously and doesn’t meet his gaze.

“You looked busy. I didn’t want to interrupt you,” he mutters. Antonio smiles a little, but there’s still something that flickers in his eyes that doesn’t escape Lovino’s attention. He chooses to ignore it and turns back to his brother when he realizes that the auburn haired boy is still talking.

“-- and I didn’t want you thinking I was spying on you so I was just gonna wait until you were gone, but then Mr. Antonio called me out and I was gonna pretend that I wasn’t here but then you noticed me and I’m sorry! I promised I wouldn’t tell, Lovino, please don’t be mad with me! I don’t have to--”

“Alright, alright, cut it out!” Lovino nearly shouts after Feliciano shows no sign of stopping his apology. “I believe you, just stop crying!”

Antonio sighs. “He has a point, you know. About it being suspicious that he’s the only one there if your Grandpa does come back.”

Lovino sputters, running out of steam. “I’m _not_ babysitting my little brother while I’m at this party with you.” He tries to ignore how Antonio’s eyes light up when he says _‘with you’_ , glaring at Feliciano when he scampers up the steps to join them on the landing.

“You don’t have to, I know the very person,” Antonio says. “No worries, he’ll take good care of Feli while I show you around.”

Lovino doesn’t like the way Antonio winks again, his eyes glittering with mischief. He also doesn’t like how he hears himself sigh moments later, not able to deal with how pleading both Antonio and Feliciano’s eyes become when he doesn’t answer for a while.

“It better not be that French bastard you told me about, or I’m leaving and taking Feli with me.”

 

 

 

“Absolutely not,” Lovino states instantly.

“I’ll be fine, _fratello_ ,” Feliciano insists. “He actually looks really nice!”

“Lovino, please?” Antonio whines, holding Lovino’s right hand in both of his own. After traveling down into the third class dining room in the belly of the ship, he has already shed his overcoat and undone his tie and top few buttons, letting a bit of his broad chest show from under his shirt. Lovino is already distracted enough as it is, with all the music from the Irish band playing near the old piano and the laughter and drinking and _brawling_ filling the room up with a chorus of sounds; he does not need to be staring at the skin where Antonio’s neck meets his shoulder.

Lovino tries to keep his mind on the task at hand and not indulged in his fantasies: Antonio intended to leave his little brother _alone_ with this gigantic German potato bastard that Lovino had only _just_ met. The blond in question shifts under his gaze, looking slightly uncomfortable under all of this attention directed at him as he tightens his hold on a book in his hands. Lovino tries to read the cover but it’s impossible for him, as the language it’s in is German.

“I said no,” Lovino repeats.

Antonio groans, exasperated. “Ludwig isn’t really one for parties, Lovino. He was just going to sit back here with his book anyway!” Antonio exclaims. “Look, he’s your age believe it or not! Nothing is going to happen to Feliciano under his watch.”

“I’m just going to sit here and talk with him!” Feliciano butts in, stepping between Lovino and Ludwig, the blond blinking in surprise at the sudden action. “I just want you to have fun okay? I don’t even want to dance or drink or anything!”

Lovino gives him a hard look, and Feliciano fidgets.

“....much.”

Antonio turns Lovino’s attention back on him, his green eyes imploring for Lovino to concede in his fight. “ _Por favor_ , Lovino. Just for an hour. A half an hour! I just want to dance with you -- just for a little.”

God, Lovino can’t handle those eyes. He looks back to the German behind his brother, who looks like he has to be at least six foot next to Antonio and he narrows his eyes. Ludwig finally looks at him after avoiding his gaze, and a tad bit of nervousness flashes in his eyes before he clears his throat, pulling his shoulders back.

“Nothing will happen to your brother when he’s with me,” he rumbles. “I swear on my life.”

Lovino stares a bit longer before he hisses out a sigh, telling himself that if it was any other night, he would have grabbed Feliciano by the wrist and marched his way back upstairs into first class himself. He narrows his eyes. “If you try anything with my brother, I’ll throw you off the side of the ship,” he warns, his voice icy, and Ludwig nods in understanding even though Feliciano whines at him in embarrassment.

“Lovino, stop it!”

Lovino ignores him, already shucking his coat and removing his own tie, unbuttoning the top button and rolling up his sleeves so he’s a little more comfortable before spinning to face Antonio. “So,” he says sharply, running a hand through his hair so it’s a little more loose. “Where did you want to start?”

Antonio blinks a moment before _beaming_ , taking Lovino by the arm and dragging him towards the source of the noise. He sneaks two glasses of beer off a table surrounded by men competing in arm wrestling, pulling Lovino towards an empty table in the middle of all of the festivities before sitting him down and joining him at the seat across of him.

Lovino makes a face at the glass, even after Antonio takes a long sip and looks up at him afterwards, a confused look on his face. Lovino sighs and grabs the mug.

“I’m not really one for beer,” he admits, frowning down at the alcohol. It just never tasted right to him: it was too yeasty and it left a bad taste in his mouth. He sighs, shrugging as he looks back up at Antonio, who’s watching him closely. “As long as next time I can get some wine, I’ll drink it.” Antonio grins at him, laughing happily when Lovino initially cringes at the taste but throws back the entire mug.

“Jesus, Toni, you’ve certainly picked a keeper,” a voice behind Lovino barks, nearly causing him to drop the glass he’s holding when he leaps out of his skin in fright. Antonio vaults out his seat, his entire face glowing when he recognizes the people behind him.

“Gilbert, Francis!” he hails, and Lovino turns to see the two frequent faces from Antonio’s sketchbook in person, and they’re both staring down at him. Lovino flushes red, feeling very small so far beneath them like he’s in the spotlight. He doesn’t like it, tightening the hold on his glass.

“I take it this is Lovino?” Gilbert asks, grinning and plopping down in the open seat next to the Italian. “He’s certainly a lot different than I imagined him to be.” Lovino wipes his mouth, glaring at him. He only had two glasses of wine at dinner, but when that was added to the beer he just drank he could feel a slight buzz from the alcohol in his system. When he finds his snark after his initial nervousness, he doesn’t let that comment sit.

“What? Think a first class guy like me can’t drink?” he snaps, hoping it’ll sting, but Gilbert just laughs it off as Francis sits down next to him. Lovino can’t help but think that two who have just sat down are polar opposites: the blond moves with smooth, fluid movements when compared to the jerky and rough motions of the albino beside him. Gilbert reaches back for two more glasses, one of beer and one of wine, setting the wine down in front of Francis easily while taking a sip of the beer himself.

“Fiery one, ain’t he?” he remarks, and Antonio laughs while Lovino burns in embarrassment. “His brother is the one you left with Lud, right? They look nearly identical.”

“That’s because we’re twins, asshole,” Lovino can’t help but mutter, because it seems like everything this guy seems to say gets on Lovino’s nerves. This time Gilbert gives him a surprised look before he grins. Francis smiles a little too, hiding it behind his glass while Gilbert leans over and claps Antonio on the back.

“I like him, Toni. He’s got my approval. Doesn’t seem at all like those rich bastards upstairs,” the albino says, winking. Lovino snorts, keeping his empty glass near his face to hide the color in his cheeks.

“I fucking hope not,” he mutters, looking away from Gilbert and down at the grain of the wooden table. “I can’t stand them any more than you.”

Gilbert hums in approval, sipping at his glass. “Good. They’re all a bunch of prats -- the lot of them.” He grins, jerking his thumb towards himself. “The name’s Gilbert Beilschmidt.” He motions to Francis. “This here is Francis Bonnefoy. He may be incredibly talented at complaining, but he _is_ the one to thank for making your Spaniard look good enough to get into first class. Trust me, he needed the help -- he’s a mess. Been one since I met him.”

Antonio gasps a little before he starts to whine, trying to reach for Gilbert from across the table but he’s easily batted aside by the laughing albino. Francis rolls his eyes, breaking the two of them apart to present himself. He lifts up his glass of wine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lovino.” He tucks a few strands of his flaxen hair behind his ear, his voice smooth when he speaks. “Don’t let Gilbert’s words phase you. Bullshit takes up more of his vocabulary than anything nowadays.”

It’s Gilbert’s turn to gasp. “What’s that supposed to mean, Francis?”

Antonio laughs, and the sound makes Lovino smile a little, but it doesn’t last for long. Francis takes a sharp intake of breath as his eyes widen, directed at the stairs. “ _Oh mon Dieu._ ” Gilbert looks over at him, his expression falling when he gazes at the shock on Francis’s face and follows his line of sight to the stairs. Instantly, like someone has flipped a switch, his face goes pure white and his grip on his glass tightens, all lightheartedness from earlier disappearing.

Lovino’s eyebrows bunch together, especially when Antonio bites his lip guiltily when he sees Gilbert’s expression, and he finally turns to see what’s causing the distress among the three friends. He’s nearly as shocked as the rest of them by what he sees.

Roderich Edelstein is at the stairs, taking a quick look around with an overwhelmed expression on his face, his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s changed out of his formal wear, wearing something a lot more modest that makes him blend in better with the other third class passengers, but his body language immediately gives him away as someone who doesn’t belong. He’s standing too properly and he looks too noble.

“Gilbert?” Francis asks carefully, and Lovino looks back over to see Gilbert staring down at his glass, an unreadable expression on his face. Francis looks back up and his face turns exasperated, his jaw tightening. “ _Merde_ , he’s seen us.”

Gilbert looks back up, an agitated look in his eye before he swears to himself. “Out of all the places to see him,” he says, his voice raised slightly in hysteria. “All the _fucking_ places! It had to be here! _Scheiße_ , I need another drink.” He quickly downs the mug in his hand before he grabs another so quickly Lovino has no idea where it came from. Gilbert’s ruby eyes dart back up and he laughs humorlessly. “He’s coming this way, great.”

He quiets down and soon Lovino feels a presence behind him, dignified yet uncomfortable, and he turns again to find Roderich behind him. He’s staring at Lovino, violet eyes wide in surprise.

“Lovino?” he asks, and Lovino shrugs.

“If you’re spying on me for my grandfather, then no,” he says, deeply casual as he swirls around a drop of beer left at the bottom of his glass. To be honest, Lovino doesn’t truly think that’s what the Austrian is doing here, but he might as well check. After all, stranger things have happened. Roderich looks a vastly taken aback at the accusation for a split second before he recovers, shaking his head while wrapping his arms tightly around his chest.

“No, no, I’m not doing anything of the sort,” he murmurs. “I’ve… come here for my own business.” He finally looks at Gilbert, who’s still staring at his glass. The albino snorts.

“I guess that ‘business’ has something to do with me, huh?” he spits, his voice bitter, and Francis bites his lip at the tone of the albino’s voice as he looks away.

“Lovino!” Antonio suddenly interjects cheerfully, grabbing Lovino by the hand. “I have to go find Agnes and give her her drawing, do you mind coming with me?” He doesn’t even wait for an answer, dragging him away from the table before Lovino has a chance to even say no, pulling him into a corner far away from the others where Antonio lets out a long whine of exhaustion.

“I think I’ve done a bad thing, Lovino.”

Lovino is still tense from the atmosphere back at the table. “What did you _do?_ ” is all he can manage to ask, his voice a mere hiss of a whisper, because he’s still thinking about the look on Gilbert’s face when Roderich showed up behind them. It was such an intense slurry or pain and anger and _regret_ that Lovino felt the effect of just seeing it deep in his heart. Antonio bites his lip, covering his face with his hands.

“I told Roderich where he could find us tonight,” he says miserably. “When you saw us near the clock? He said he wanted to talk to Gilbert, and maybe I thought that maybe Gil would have been over their fight from all those years ago, and I wasn’t expecting him to show up so soon, honest!” He groans. “I’m a terrible friend, Gilbert is going to hate me forever now.”

Lovino feels like this doesn’t explain anything. “What happened between them?” he asks cautiously, because it had to be bad in order for what Lovino had seen to hold weight. Antonio is quiet for a few moments before he sighs deeply.

“I don’t want to go into it right now, Lovino,” he says tiredly, smiling weakly. “Let’s just find Agnes and then we can dance a little before I take you and your brother back, alright?” Lovino hesitates a second longer before he nods and Antonio sighs again in relief, perking up immediately. “Okay, let’s go!”

It doesn’t take Antonio very long to find the girl he’s looking for. Agnes is sitting close to most of the dancing with her father: a large, bushy bearded man who looks as stoic as a statue before his face splits in half in a grin when he sees the Spaniard. Lovino strays behind, grabbing a glass of wine from a tray beside him, sipping at it as he watches. Antonio pulls the folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and, crouching down, hands it to the little girl, who radiates happiness as soon as she sees it. She reaches up on her toes and kisses Antonio on the cheek before showing the drawing to her father.

Antonio pulls away after another second just when a new song strikes up in the band, and Antonio lights up before taking Lovino’s wine glass from his hands and sets it on the table next to them. Lovino’s about to ask him what he’s doing before Antonio replaces the glass with his hand, twining their fingers together.

“Care for a dance?” he asks, and Lovino’s face bursts into flames.

“Wait-- I can’t!” he says, but almost as quickly as he’s said it Antonio laughs. He flushes angrily that his fear is being tossed aside so lightly. “I don’t know the steps!”

“I don’t either!” Antonio says brightly. He brings Lovino closer by placing a hand on the small of his back and pulling the smaller Italian closer to him, and all the complaints that Lovino had formed in protest dissolve in his throat when their hips press together. He can tell from the look on Antonio’s face that he knows the Spaniard enjoys how lost for words he is, because there’s a glint in his eye as he grins. “Come on, Lovi, just go with it!”

Then, before Lovino can utter one word of restraint, he pulls Lovino into the beat of the song.

Lovino doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, for the dizziness from all the alcohol he’s had the whole night mixed with the closeness he’s sharing with Antonio is making his head swim, but he can’t help but laugh as he’s twirled around. Antonio is laughing as he makes up how they’re dancing along the way, mainly just spinning and leaping and bounding to the beat of the tune, but with the quick glances at the rest of passengers dancing with them they don’t seem too far off with their steps. All Lovino knows is that he’s warm and happy and _oh so close_ to Antonio and he can’t think of any moment in his life where he’s felt so euphoric.

They break apart to link arms, dancing around each other, and repeating the action again in the other direction before Antonio pulls him close once more and they spin off in the other way. The song speeds up and so do they, leaping and spinning in a tighter circle and Lovino can’t help but squawk when he feels like he’s slipping out of Antonio’s hold, grabbing onto him tighter.

_“Don’t you dare drop me!”_ he yells, barely even registering it as Italian as he laughs breathlessly, but Antonio only laughs ferociously back at him.

“I can’t understand you!” he replies boisterously. “Did you say faster?”

_“Antonio--!”_  He barely gets the name out before Antonio lifts him up and twirls as fast as he can as the song peaks near the end and Lovino screams, half out of fear and the other half in pure exhilaration as his forehead presses against Antonio’s and he clutches onto the Spaniard so hard he’s momentarily afraid that he’ll suffocate him.

He doesn’t even realize the song is ending until Antonio is putting him down on the ground, but he refuses to let go. “If you ever, _ever_ do that to me again, I’ll _kill_ you--!” He’s saying rapidly, between his gasping laughter that’s only beat by Antonio’s own beaming. “I will! I mean it, asshole, I’ll kill you!”

Antonio tries to stifle his laughter in Lovino’s hair. “ _Lo siento, cariño,_ you just looked so happy and I couldn’t help myself. I promise I’ll ask next time--”

“Like _hell_ are you doing that again,” Lovino interjects, but there’s no bite or seriousness to his words because he’s still laughing. “God, I need another drink.”

Antonio pulls Lovino over to a table and Lovino forgoes the chair, choosing instead to sit directly on the table as he downs the wine that Antonio passes to him. Okay, two drinks ago he had said how he didn’t feel drunk, but now he at feels a little intoxicated. Antonio sips his own beer, nearly choking and spitting it out when he sees Lovino’s already done with his drink.

“ _Dios mio_ , Lovi,” he begins, but Lovino just brushes him off.

“Trust me, Antonio,” he corrects immediately. “I’ve gunned them down faster before. This is _nothing_ compared to the cantinas back home.”

A devious smile plays at Antonio’s lips, a gleam in his eye. “That almost sounds like a challenge,” he states dangerously, and Lovino narrows his eyes at him before he can’t help himself and bursts into laughter.

“You shouldn’t take up challenges you can’t afford to lose,” he huffs, but Antonio doesn’t bat an eye. In fact, his smile turns sly.

“As should you.” Antonio says nothing more, just watching Lovino lazily as the Italian grins and pulls himself closer to the Spaniard sitting next to him.

“Should I take that as a threat, Mr. Fernández?” he says. Right now, he doesn’t care what’s going on with Feliciano and that German or if Roderich and Gilbert are tearing each other apart as of that moment; _hell_ , he didn’t even care what his grandfather was doing. Antonio was staring at Lovino in a way that made his heart soar, and even though he knew he’d have to hide his raging hangover tomorrow from Roma, he wanted to take Antonio up on this challenge.

Antonio hums, finishing his own drink. “Maybe another time, Lovino. I would really mind it if you died tonight from alcohol poisoning.” He stands and pulls Lovino down from the table. “Let’s just keep dancing for tonight!”

Lovino laughs. “Alright, alright, but let’s stay on the floor this time--” he isn’t allowed to finish as he’s whisked away to the dance floor again, but he doesn’t complain any further when he’s pulled back into Antonio’s strong arms.  He knows that this was probably going to be the the best night of his entire life, and ignoring the looming thoughts of tomorrow in the back of his head, he allows himself to fade into the beat of the drum and the sound of the fiddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last minor relationship tag will be added next chapter, but i'm sure that a few of you can already guess what it might be lmao
> 
> thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to do the only thing can think of,” he says as he turns back to his brother. “I’m going to talk to Grandpa about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update!! things have been pretty busy for me with the holidays coming up, and i didn't get a time to upload this until now. updates should be back to normal soon, but if they're still a little weird until i get things back on track i'm sorry!!
> 
> enjoy!

When Lovino wakes up the next morning, his head is pounding in a way that he’s never felt before, and all of the memories from last night filter quickly back into his mind. Antonio’s hands, his smile, the sound of the band… he worries for a second that it was all just a dream before he realizes that his tongue is sour with the taste of alcohol and his feet and legs are sore from dancing the night away. He groans, reaching a hand up to hold his head in pain when he sees his brother standing over him.

Feliciano’s eyes are large, wide circles before he bites his lip and places a finger over his mouth. “Good morning, Lovino,” he whispers, and even though he’s barely audible Lovino knows something is wrong. His heart falls into his feet when Feliciano’s face screws up in pain, looking like he’s about to cry.

“What’s wrong?” he croaks, and Feliciano actually _sobs_.

Oh no.

“G-Grandpa-- wants to talk with you.”

Lovino feels his heart stop, and he knows from the look on his brother’s face that he _knows_ , his grandfather _knows_ what he did and oh _God_ , he’s never going to be let out of his sight now, his grandfather’s never going to trust him, he’s never going to see Antonio _ever_ again. Despair floods his lungs and for a second he can’t breathe, covering his mouth with a hand so he doesn’t make a sound as he sits up in his bed.

How could he have found out? Lovino’s brain whirs through the pain of his hangover, filtering through all the possible ways that Roma could have discovered his secret, until he realizes something: only one other person knew where he was the previous night.

“You _told_ him.” His voice cracks in grief, and Feliciano’s eyes widen in horror, his own voice still not raising about a whisper.

“N-No! I didn’t!” he stammers weakly. “Lovino, I promised--!”

 _“You_ _told_ _him!”_ Lovino yells, and Feliciano flinches at the sudden volume of his voice. Lovino feels betrayed, his heart feels like it’s ripping in half and he doesn’t know what to do now that the world he had built up all on his own was crashing down around him; all because Feliciano couldn’t keep his _stupid mouth_ shut. He keeps his voice raised, letting all the hurt and anger seep into his voice as he tries to keep his voice from shaking. “After I _trusted_ you! You _told_ him!”

His brother is crying for real now, shaking his head and pleading for Lovino to believe him as fat tears roll down his cheeks, his arms wrapped tightly around himself like he’s trying to disappear. “I didn’t! I didn’t tell!”

Lovino doesn’t care, not now, and he turns his head away because he feels like he’s going to be sick. “You had to ruin everything! You _always ruin everything!_ I was actually _happy_ for the _first time in my life_ and you stomped all over it because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut! I shouldn’t have trusted you, I can’t trust anyone!”

Lovino’s yelling so loudly he doesn’t hear the door to his room shut.

“Feliciano didn’t tell me anything.”

Lovino spins around at the voice, stomach falling into his feet, instantly regretting the decision to move so quickly when a sharp pain digs itself in his brain from his hangover. His grandfather is standing in front of the door, already dressed, and his expression is hard. All of Lovino’s anger disappears like a popped balloon, and finally all the pain and hurt from loss fills the empty space his rage left behind. His voice is barely audible.

“What?”

“I already had a talk with Feliciano about what happened last night. Now it’s your turn.” His face is a smooth mask of indifference, making all of Lovino’s words in his mouth shatter into shards that seem to stick themselves in his throat. Roma doesn’t wait for Lovino to find his voice again and turns around to open the door. “Get dressed. I’ll see you at breakfast.” He slams the door shut after he leaves and instantly the room is left to sit in silence, the only thing breaking it being Feliciano’s sniffles and choked sobs.

Lovino feels a wave of anguish wash over him, and now he feels like he can’t meet his brother’s eyes. “Feliciano,” he whispers thickly after a few more seconds. “I-- _fuck_ , I’m such a fool. I goddamned fool-- I shouldn’t have blamed you-- ”

Feliciano shakes his head, managing to get his weeping under a small level of control. “No, it’s okay,” he says, his voice near silent. “I wouldn’t have believed me either. I was the only other person who knew about you and Mr. Antonio.”

At the sound of Antonio’s name Lovino gasps out a sob, which he smothers immediately with a hand. “How?” he asks, his voice rising in his growing hysteria. “How did he find out?! We came back before he did last night, didn’t we?”

Feliciano whimpers a little bit. “It was Mr. Sadiq-- he spied on us. Apparently he saw both of us at the party last night and told Grandpa.” Feliciano sounds like he’s going to start crying again, and Lovino doesn’t blame him. “I’m so, _so_ sorry, _fratello_. I saw him-- when I was talking with Ludwig-- but I didn’t want to tell you because you were having such a good time, and I didn’t want you worrying about today. I should have said something.”

Lovino shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.” His voice is rough -- it's hard to speak. “What… what did Grandpa say to you?”

Feliciano nearly bursts back into tears. His voice is terrifyingly small, like he’s afraid their grandfather will appear from the shadows behind them and cut their conversation short. “He told me I couldn’t do anything like that again, and I could never see Ludwig ever again either, which isn’t fair, because Ludwig was so nice, and he treated me so well! He made me laugh, and he looks so pretty when he smiles, and-- I think I might be in love with him, Lovino, and that’s why--”

“Stop.” Lovino stops him. He’s having such a hard time processing things between the heartbreak and the pain of his hangover, the statement takes him by surprise. His tongue is heavy in his mouth, and each word feels heavy and blunt. “You… you what?” Feliciano starts crying again and Lovino feels like he doesn’t know what to do anymore. “That… that can’t be--”

“I met Ludwig before the party, Lovino,” Feliciano finally bursts out, and Lovino’s mouth drops. “He-- I was walking around yesterday looking for you, when you were with Mr. Antonio, and I got lost and somehow ended up in third class, and then there were a bunch of big, scary guys surrounding me and I couldn’t tell what they were saying, so I just ran away and then I bumped into Ludwig--! He looked scary too, so I almost started crying, but then he took me out to the deck and talked with me until I calmed down. His voice was so gentle, and he was really really nice, and-- I don’t know--! I’m in love with him, Lovino, but I can’t see him ever again!”

Lovino feels like he’s swallowed a mouthful of sand when his brother finally breaks down, still sobbing unintelligible things as he falls to his knees beside the bed. He stares down at his brother, the dull shock that had been sluggishly flowing through his brain beginning to fade out and another hotter, emotion taking his place. Didn’t Roma see what he was doing to Feliciano, saying those things to him? The hotness his his heart pumps through his body until he feels ready to burst. He clenches his jaw.

“You really love this German?” he asks quietly, and Feliciano pauses before he nods solemnly. Lovino knows he’s telling the truth. “Alright then.”

He throws off his sheets as Feliciano snaps his head up, staring at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes, his mouth open in a silent question. Lovino checks himself over in the mirror for a moment, grimacing at his reflection before he starts getting his clothes out of his drawers as he explains.

“If... I didn’t understand what you meant, Feliciano, I would have thought you were just getting ahead of yourself and getting worked up over nothing,” he mutters, pulling off his undershirt. “I believe you.”

“What are we going to do?” is Feliciano’s near silent reply.

Lovino squares his shoulders, swallowing thickly in the mirror at his own reflection. “I’m going to do the only thing can think of,” he says as he turns back to his brother. “I’m going to talk to Grandpa about this.”

 

 

 

Lovino enters the brightly lit room quietly, wincing at the sun when his head pounds, finding his grandfather sitting alone in silence with a half empty bottle of red wine at his side and an empty glass in his fingertips. He swallows nervously when he sees the amount of alcohol Roma has already imbibed, but remembers Feliciano’s anguished look and steels himself for a struggle. He crosses the room and sits in the open chair across from his grandfather, thanking a maid when she comes in and sets a plate of food in front of him.

Roma doesn’t say anything, even when she leaves.

Lovino decides it’d be best if he only speaks when spoken to, because keeping Roma’s anger under a manageable level was the only way he feels he could at least _try_ to make him understand where he and Feliciano were coming from. Remembering his manners, he takes the napkin and sets it on his lap before he reaches for a fork and spears a slice of tomato, pulling it into his mouth. It’s not until he swallows that he realizes how hungry he is and he quickly devours a third of what’s on his plate.

Roma sighs deeply, and Lovino halts his eating when he feels his stomach leap in fear so he sets down his fork, reaching for his water glass to clear his mouth and throat. Unfortunately, he finds it hard to swallow when Roma looks at him, those golden eyes extremely tired.

“I take it Feliciano’s already told you what I talked to him about,” he says delicately, and Lovino feels that anger flare a little bit. He finishes swallowing before looking back at his food, keeping his voice even as he sets down his glass and takes up his fork.

“He did,” he replies coolly, stabbing a slice of orange with a little more malice than he had intended. “I heard you told him that he’s never allowed to have fun ever again.”

Roma sighs again, closing his eyes, seemingly exhausted. “Lovino,” he warns, his voice low. “Don’t do this.”

Lovino glares at him, throwing down his fork roughly. “No, how could you _do_ that to him? You know how shitty that is to say that to someone-- and _Feliciano_ of all people! You know how soft he is about things!”

Roma reopens his eyes but they’re trained on the table, and he takes a long sip of wine. “Watch your mouth. It was for his own good, Lovino. Just like it’s for _your_ own good that you leave that Spaniard alone. He’s no good for you.”

Lovino feels anger levels rise to his throat. What gave him the right for Roma to treat him like this? No good? What did Roma know what was good for him when he had ignored him for half of his life? He feels his internal wick light, and as the seconds go by he feels closer and closer to exploding.

“How do you know what’s good for me and what’s not?!” he snaps. “You barely even pretend I _exist_ anymore, so what does it matter what I do or who I’m with!”

Roma finally gives him a warning look. “Don’t speak to me that way, Lovino. I’m still your grandfather, so give me some respect.”

Lovino snorts. “Why should I respect you if you don’t give me any in return?” he snarls. Lovino knows he’s going to hit a wall soon, and Grandpa is going to explode in his face at any moment, but he’s ready. “Just admit that you hate me, alright, because I’m sick and tired of being treated like I’m invisible!”

Roma’s eyes widen, and Lovino feels the metallic tang of regret hit the back of his tongue when he sees a spark of hurt flash through his grandfather’s eyes, but he’s too agitated to care. He was tired of everything: the dam he built to keep his feelings in check is beginning to burst. The older man tries to speak, beginning with an “I don’t--” but Lovino doesn’t give him a chance to talk.

“I _like_ spending time with Antonio. He treats me like a _real_ person and listens to what I have to say and he never treats me any differently than he would his own friends! Why would I trade that for stuffy parties where I’m just a conversation piece?! I’m not like that, stop trying to _make_ me like that!”

His grandfather's eyes burn in anger, his expression hard. “Lovino--”

“I’m sick and tired of being treated like I’m inferior to my brother, because I’m not. I’m my own person, and I’m not going to be molded like the perfect person you want me to be-- I’m fucking _sick_ of it! I’m _not_ Feliciano, I’m _not_ Mom, and I’m _not_ _you !”_

 _“Enough!”_ Roma booms, surging out of his seat, and Lovino’s voice catches in his throat in fear when the wine bottle, knocked aside, careens to the floor and smashes on the ground. Roma’s enraged past a point that Lovino’s never seen before, and he’s is glued to his chair as Roma stares down at him, his eyes shining with fury. “Do you _want_ to end up like your mother? Poor and alone and _dead_ because you believe in something that will ultimately lead you to pain and _failure_ _?”_

Lovino freezes, and his mouth moves but no sound comes out. Roma glares at him, unmoving, until Lovino coughs out a shaky breath of air.

“I _knew_ it,” he says, his voice trembling. “You _do_ hate me because of what happened to me and Mom.”

Roma squeezes his eyes shut, slamming his fist on the table and knocking over many more of the items scattered across it. “Dammit, Lovino! I don’t hate you!” He turns away from the mess he makes, his back facing his grandson so Lovino can’t see his face. “I’m doing all these things for _you!_ So you you can grow up one day and take over for me! I have no other heirs to this company, and you’re the first in line to do so. Yet here you are, wasting your time with pretty Spanish boys that you’ll never see again once this ship lands in New York City!”

Lovino’s heart aches as his feelings are squashed, and he’s rendered speechless as he stares at his grandfather’s backside, who is silent for a long time. His mind was buzzing with unanswered questions that had sprung up at Roma’s statement, but he can’t figure out an order to ask them in. Grandpa wanted the company to go to him? Not Feliciano?

He lets a few seconds of silence pass so Roma can calm down, but finally he tests the waters, his voice quiet. “If this is all for me, then why can’t Feliciano be happy either? It’s… it’s not fair.”

“First rule in life, Lovino: nothing in life is fair for anyone. I learned that eleven years ago when my daughter passed away and I nearly lost one of my only grandchildren.” Lovino bites his tongue, and Roma sighs, moving on to answer his question. “If you turned me down, I would name Feliciano the heir instead. However, until one of you is named the official heir, I can’t have either of you wasting your talents or time on things unrelated to the company.”

Lovino pushes on. “So if one of us accepts, then we can both go on our way, right? You would leave us alone?”

Roma snorts. “Unfortunately, that’s not the case. Penniless Spanish artists and German boys would only end up as a distraction. My heir would have to devote himself purely and wholly to his work, and leave any other feelings aside.” He decides after another moment that he sounds too harsh and he adds, “I’m sorry, Lovino, but this is just the way it has to be. For the best of the company and for the best of _you_.”

Lovino feels numb. So they couldn’t both be happy, was that what Roma was saying? It had to be one or the other? He stares down at his fists in his lap, biting his bottom lip. _What if neither of us accept it?_ is what he wants so ask next, but he knows that’s not an acceptable question for Roma to answer. He thinks of all the possible ways this conversation could go, a million different ways that he could either accept or decline his grandfather’s wishes, but he only finds them leading to the same ending.

And Antonio isn't in it.

“So,” he whispers quietly, because he fears that raising his voice any higher would result it in a dissonance of voice cracking that would render him incomprehensible. “What you're saying... is if I step up and accept the position as heir to your company, Feliciano can have his German?”

Roma turns his head so fast Lovino’s half afraid it’ll snap off his neck. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Lovino snaps weakly, but quite frankly, _he_ didn’t even know what he was saying. Was he really giving up his one shot of happiness, for _Feliciano?_ The brother who got everything and more, while he ended up with nothing?

Was he really saying goodbye to Antonio with so few words, _forever_?

He shuts his eyes. As much as it hurt, he couldn’t possibly imagine being happy if Feliciano was not. When he had broken down into tears back in his room next to his bed, it was like Lovino’s world was falling apart.

He decides that, for the best, he’d have to sacrifice his own happiness for his brother’s.

“I’ll take the damn position, just let Feliciano have his German,” Lovino repeats, and the words are like keys to the shackles around his wrists. He closes his eyes, remembering how warm he felt the previous night when he was in Antonio’s arms, because that was all he had now. A memory. A dream.

Roma finally smiles, turning back and pulling Lovino into a hug. “Thank you, Lovino. You’ve just made a very hard decision so much easier for me. Go and tell Feliciano the good news, we’ll have something to celebrate tonight!”

Lovino nods hollowly, opening his eyes again just to stare dumbly at the table, his mind completely overwhelmed by all of his conflicting emotions fighting each other for dominance in his brain. He feels empty, and when his grandfather leaves the room in a rush he can’t find the energy to stand up. Eventually, he forces himself out of his chair and out of the room, down the hallway towards his suite. He reaches for his door knob numbly, and when he opens it Feliciano stands jerkily from the chair in front of his fireplace.

His eyes are so red from crying that Lovino nearly winces, but he can’t bring himself to do so with how detached he feels. Feliciano automatically detects something is wrong when Lovino steps into the room and closes the door behind him, stopping in the center of the room because he just doesn’t know what to do anymore.

“Lovino, what’s wrong?” he asks, guarded, and Lovino just swallows.

“It’s okay, Feliciano,” he replies, his voice eerily calm. “You can go see your German now.”

Feliciano’s face momentarily fills with relief before it turns concerned. “But, what about you? What about Mr. Antonio?” Lovino doesn’t answer, and Feliciano comes closer, putting his hands on either of his shoulders. “Lovino,” he repeats, each word pronounced. _“What about you?”_

Something about Feliciano’s gentle touch causes Lovino’s facade to crack, and he feels tears well up in his eyes as agony begins to set into the emptiness he felt before. “I….” His voice is tight, but he looks up at his brother anyway, meeting his gaze. “I had to let him go.”

Feliciano’s eyes widen in disbelief, staring at him for a moment longer before he understands. He shakes his head. “No. You… you _couldn’t_ have.” Lovino stays silent, and when Feliciano’s face contorts in grief Lovino feels his own tears start to roll down his cheeks, his hands shaking. Feliciano moves to cup his brother’s cheeks, making sure Lovino’s gaze is directed on him and him alone. “For me? _No_ , Lovino, you _shouldn’t_ have! I _can’t_ let you do this--”

“I _had_ to,” Lovino tries to snap, but his words come out shaky. He can’t even summon the energy to get angry. “The only way Grandpa would let either of us go was for one of us to step up as the heir of the company.” He reaches up and grabs tightly onto Feliciano’s wrists before he pulls his brother’s hands away, collapsing into his brother’s arms before bursting into a mess of tears. “It was the only way to make you happy.”

Feliciano hugs him tightly, letting Lovino cry into his shoulder. “But Lovino--” his voice is no louder than a whisper, and he pets his older brother’s head as he cries, keeping himself together for his brother’s sake. “I won’t be happy if you can’t be.”

 

 

 

Antonio stares up at the spring mattress above him, lost in his thoughts as he waits for the time to drift away. He had woken up less hungover than he expected, which surprised him until he realized he spent most of the previous night just watching Lovino throw back drinks last night like it was no one’s business instead of drinking himself. He smiles in spite of himself, biting his lip when he remembers the sound of Lovino’s laugh, holding him close and dancing long into the night.

He glances over to the other side of the room where Ludwig is sitting in his bunk, reading his book, but he doesn’t look like he’s concentrating on it at all. His eyes look like they're staring at something far away, appearing as if he’s lost in his thoughts rather than lost in the story. Antonio glances at the cover of the book, but when he’s unable to translate it after a few moments he just gives up, facing Francis’ mattress again.

His arms feel empty: he wishes Lovino were here to fill them.

The room was quiet. Gilbert and Francis were both gone: Antonio had gone to bed in their cabin without them and they were still gone when he woke up, which could have either been good or bad. Antonio was hoping that he had just missed them, and that nothing bad happened after Roderich had arrived at their table in the third class dining area during the party.

At the thought of the Austrian, he feels guilt pool in the pit of his stomach. He had seen how distressed Roderich had appeared when he had finally locked eyes with Gilbert last night, and _anything_ could have happened when Antonio had left those three at the table. Things couldn’t have possibly been that bad between those two after all that time apart, right…?

Antonio sighs for what he felt was the millionth time that morning, rolling over in his bed so he was facing the wall.

“You know, sighing about my brother all day isn’t going to help anything,” Ludwig finally speaks, a hint of amusement in his tone. Antonio shoots up and nearly cracks his head on the bed frame above him, whipping around to Ludwig in surprise. He had thought that Ludwig was too spaced out for him to even _hear_ his sighing, so finding out he had been listening makes him flush a little.

“Do you know what happened to them?” he asks, trying not to sound too desperate. After all, it couldn’t have been more than nine in the morning. Maybe Gilbert and Francis were eating a late breakfast! Antonio’s heart falls a little when Ludwig’s eyebrows pull together, deepening his thoughtful expression.

“Not sure,” he says honestly. “But neither Francis nor my brother came back to the room last night.” Those icy blue eyes drag up the page before the settle on Antonio’s gaze, and something about the coldness of his eyes makes Antonio uneasy. “Do you know what happened? I was busy watching Feliciano.”

Antonio feels that familiar prickle of guilt pepper at his gut and he flops down so he’s lying down on his stomach. “No,” he murmurs after another second of tense silence. “After Roderich came down the stairs, I left.”

“Roderich?” Ludwig’s voice is shocked. “You mean Roderich Edelstein?”

Antonio grins nervously. “He’s just as pushy and proper as he was all those years ago,” he says. He shifts again so he’s lying on his back again, stomach coiled up in nerves. “He’s a passenger in first class, but he still snuck down into third last night. Looks like he missed us all that much.”

“Or just my brother,” Ludwig accuses quietly. Antonio shrugs.

“Maybe.”

“Looks like the Titanic is a ship full of surprises,” Ludwig sighs a moment later, shutting his book and standing from his bed. He pulls one of his arms across his chest in a stretch, frowning at the ground. “I just hope Gilbert isn’t making an ass out of himself in front of Roderich if they managed to get to a point where they aren’t screaming at each other.”

Antonio bites his lip, his nerves settling a little bit. “You think they could?”

Ludwig cracks a fraction of smile. “Despite what happened back then, they were still young. It’s only been five years and they’ve grown. Old friends don’t grow apart _that_ fast, no matter the circumstances they left each other in.”

“You’re using the term ‘friends’ pretty loosely, Ludwig. And besides -- five years ago you were only fourteen!” Antonio complains. “You were _just_ starting to grow into your muscles. Don’t say say things like ‘old friends’ when talking about people who are my age, it makes me feel old!”

Ludwig closes his eyes to hide his frustration. “And _you_ were only seventeen five years ago. Twenty-two doesn’t make you much of an old man, Antonio.” He opens his eyes and trains them back on the Spaniard, amusement flickering in icy blues. “My grandfather is nearing 75 and he’s still young.” Antonio laughs a little and Ludwig eyes him carefully. “Don’t worry so much, it isn’t like you.”

Antonio gives another loose chuckle after a split second of surprise, feeling a bit embarrassed that Ludwig was telling him to stop worrying, when usually it was the other way around. “Ah--  _lo siento,_ Ludwig. I’ll try my best.” Antonio notices the German’s dreamy expression again and grins. “You seem more relaxed than I’ve ever _seen_ you before -- what’s up with that? Did something happen to you?”

Ludwig avoids his gaze, but his tiny smile widens the smallest amount. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door, and the two occupants exchange confused glances with each other. Ludwig points to Antonio in silent question, but he shrugs and shakes his head. It definitely wasn’t Gilbert or Francis, as either of them would have just burst into the room in an extravagant show, so the occupant behind the door was a complete mystery. Ludwig frowns when the person knocks again, this time a little louder, and he gives Antonio another perplexed look before he crosses the room to open the door.

The person outside the door is Feliciano, looking quite out of place.

“Feliciano? What are you--” Ludwig doesn’t have time to finish as Feliciano leaps into his arms, burying his face in the large man’s chest as he lets out a few breathless sobs. The blond’s voice pitches up in concern, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy protectively. “Feliciano, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Ludwig, it’s terrible--! My brother, Lovino-- he’s--”

Antonio’s blood turns to ice and he stand reflexively, his stomach falling into his feet. “What happened to Lovino?” he asks sharply, and Feliciano jumps at his voice to stare at him, still hanging onto the German at his side. His eyes are wide, but red-rimmed and puffy like he’s been crying for hours, his bottom lip raw from being chewed on.

“Antonio, he’s doing it for me--!” he says, hiccuping. “It’s my fault--!”

Antonio holds his hands out in front of him in a soothing gesture, trying to calm the nineteen year-old as best as he could even though he feels ready to choke with the amount of fear filling up his frame at the thought of something horrible happening to Lovino. “Calm down, Feliciano, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is Lovino safe?”

Feliciano tries to calm himself, biting his lip. “Y-Yes. He’s fine, but--”

“But _what?”_ Antonio asks desperately, and Feliciano hides his face again in Ludwig’s shirt in a fresh bout of tears. Ludwig glares at Antonio in warning, and Antonio swallows in response, but he doesn’t back down. He _needs_ to know what happened to Lovino. He tries again, trying to tone down the uneasiness in his voice so it doesn’t make him snap out again. “Feliciano,” he pleads quietly. “I’m _begging_ you. What happened with Lovino?”

Feliciano is quiet for a few moments before he looks back up, eyes shining with tears, his voice only a broken whisper. “Lovino can never see you again.”

Antonio blinks, his mouth opening and closing but words aren’t coming out, and before knows it he can feel himself lowering onto his mattress, his mind in complete chaos. Lovino… wasn’t allowed to see him again? Ever? Why? Antonio leans over his knees, staring hard at the ground beneath his feet.

“I’m sorry, Antonio,” Feliciano sobs. “It’s my fault, _all_ my fault. Grandpa-- he needed to name one of us heir to the family business, so that’s why he was being so strict with us-- and-- Lovino-- he -- he took it so I could be happy….”

Antonio lets his eyes slide close. Of _course_ he’d do that for Feliciano. “It’s not your fault, Feliciano,” Antonio says, startled by how calm his voice is even though he can feel the dull burn of deep seated anger boiling through him. “Lovino thinks that he’s doing the right thing.”

Feliciano has his cheek pressed against Ludwig’s chest over his heart, finally calming down now that Ludwig is petting his hair gently. “I should have told him no,” he murmurs sadly. “I should have told him to let me take the burden, but I just… I couldn’t leave Ludwig-- I--”

Ludwig hushes him softly, kissing the top of his head. “Don’t blame yourself,” he says softly.

“Yes, Feliciano, don’t blame yourself. This isn’t either of your faults.” Antonio laces his fingers through his hair, keeping his stare at the floor. He feels a rumble in his gut, bubbling up his throat and startling himself when the sound comes out as a bitter laugh. “Lovino… only wants you to be happy. He doesn’t realize that he’s only hurting himself. But….” He trails off, not even sure where his voice was going. He doesn’t know what to do.

He needs to see Lovino.

Against his better judgement, he stands, crossing the room quickly and retrieving his boots before pulling them on roughly. Feliciano and Ludwig watch him curiously.

“Where are you going?” Ludwig asks as Antonio crouches down to tie his shoes. He doesn’t answer until he’s finished, standing and cracking his knuckles in habit.

“I’m going to go see Lovino,” he replies simply. Feliciano gasps.

“B-But you can’t!” he cries. “Lovino told me that--”

“I need to hear that he’s okay with this. _From his own mouth_ ,” Antonio explains firmly, frowning at the ground. “I just….. want to make sure he’ll be okay.”

“Let me help,” Feliciano interjects, wiping his eyes. Antonio gives him a curious look and he nods. “I don’t think it’s right that Lovino has to completely leave you without saying goodbye. I want to help. I won’t be able to just bring you into first class like Lovino has done in the past, but I can help you find another way. I can, um….”

“We can can help you climb onto the first class deck,” Ludwig suggests, shrugging. “I’ll give you a boost up from second, and Feliciano can keep watch.” Feliciano’s face brightens when Ludwig offers his help, chirping in agreement and Antonio blinks.

“You’d really help me do that?” he asks, and they both nod.

“You make my brother happy,” Feliciano replies softly. “I want to help as much as I can.”

Antonio smiles broadly. “ _Gracias.”_

He was off to see Lovino.

Perhaps... for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh we finally see our last minor relationship tag on this fic!! i also added another minor character. don't worry, he has a bigger part to play later, so keep an eye on him ;ppp
> 
> thank you for reading, and i hope you all have a happy holiday!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re right. The only one who can save you is yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh sorry for another late update!! don't worry, this should be the last one, and updates should be back to normal after this. thank you for sticking with me, i hope all of you guys had a good break for the holidays! 
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

Lovino had cried himself into a light yet restless sleep, only woken by his grandfather a few hours later for lunch. Feliciano was gone, probably off to find his German, and Roma told him that they’d be taking a tour across the ship while he told everyone the good news about his company’s future stability after they ate. Lovino barely said anything, making himself look presentable in the mirror before heading out with his grandfather.

It is quite a boring trip, just like Lovino had expected it would be. He doesn’t speak at all during lunch, and he doesn’t socialize during the walk either. They make their way across the decks with the Irish businessman who had built the ship, a Mr. Thomas Andrews, and at one point the group stops in to see the exercise facilities. They have a rowing machine there that one of the ship’s officers offers for them to try out, but when one of the ladies is offered with a test run of the machine she refuses. 

“I can’t think of a more useless skill I should need aboard this unsinkable vessel,” she says, and the others laugh. Lovino can’t even crack a smile, and when everyone else is gone he smacks one of the hanging punching bags on his way out to vent some of his growing restlessness.

When they’re walking along the ship’s deck, talking about the lifeboats, Lovino realizes something.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Mr. Andrews,” he speaks up for the first time that day, and the group’s attention is drawn towards him. He clears his throat nervously, burning under their stares, but faces the ship’s naval architect with his chin raised. “I’ve done the math in my head, and with the product of the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned, there doesn’t seem to enough for everyone aboard.”

Andrews smiles halfheartedly. “About half, actually. Very good, Mr. Vargas, nothing passes by you, does it?” He points across the side of the ship, motioning to the davits. “I actually placed a new kind of davit that could hold an extra row of boats -- just for that specific reason! However, some thought that the deck would be too cluttered, so they had me overruled.”

Lovino frowns, and even Roma is a little perturbed by the statement but neither of them speak up when the rest of the people with them nod in understanding. Another one of Roma’s colleagues laughs, knocking against one the sides of the lifeboats with his cane.

“Even these are a waste of deckspace,” he says, grinning widely. “On an unsinkable ship, lifeboats are just dead weight!” The posse laughs.

Lovino can’t bring himself to laugh at this, but he fakes a smile that comes out a bit strangled, and Andrews takes notice. He places a gentle hand on Lovino’s shoulder. “Rest easy, Mr. Vargas. I’ve built a fine ship. You won’t have a need to use any of these lifeboats.” 

Lovino nods, avoiding Andrews’ line of sight by staring at the boats, and he lets his grandfather and the rest of the group go on ahead. He strays a minute, running his fingers along the side of the lifeboat the man had hit with his cane, and he sighs before trailing after the rest of the group, trying to clear his mind.

Suddenly, someone grabs his arm and tugs him backwards. Lovino twists himself around in order to try and free himself, his heart welling up in panic.

He freezes when he sees it’s Antono. The Spaniard is wearing a hat and coat, his hair haphazardly slicked back so he appears to be a first class passenger, at least from a distance. He has a finger raised up to his lips in a sign for quiet, eyes pleading, before jerking his head back to the door behind them. Lovino bites his lip, whirling back to see his grandfather busy in deep conversation so he takes a deep breath and follows Antonio’s tugging back into the room to get off of the deck.

He barely registers that it’s the gymnasium until he turns back to Antonio, who’s pulling off the hat and throwing it aside. “I shouldn’t be here,” Lovino hisses quietly before he realizes it’s only the two of them in the room. He tries to ignore the guilt clawing at his insides and bites his lip. “Neither of us should be.”

“I just need to talk to you,” Antonio says desperately, and Lovino backs into the window behind him when the Spaniard approaches him. Antonio hesitates when he sees the action, but continues forward. “I need to make sure you’ll be alright with what you’re doing.”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine,” Lovino lies, and when Antonio frowns Lovino bites his lip harder, looking at anything other than the man in front of him. He doesn’t want to hurt him, but he can’t think of any other way that Antonio will give up on him. “Look,  _ I  _ made this decision. I’m happy with it-- Grandpa really must trust me in order to let me inherit his business! I was really only using you as a distraction, and I can’t waste any more time with people below deck if I’m going to be successful.” Lovino forces himself to laugh, but Antonio grabs him by the shoulders and forces him to look up. His voice dies in his throat when he sees the look in Antonio’s eyes.

“Lovino,” the dark brunet begins, smiling a little bit. “You  _ know  _ you don’t mean any of that. You’re a liar, you’re defensive, and you have the shortest temper I’ve ever seen! But under all of that, you’re one of the most gentle, caring people I’ve ever met. You’re amazing, Lovino, truly. You’re only so quick to insult and push others away because you don’t want to be hurt. That’s why--”

Lovino bites his lip, his face exploding into color. “Antonio, stop--”

“No, let me finish-- please.” Antonio waits until he knows he can continue. “I know the differences between us. I know I have nothing to offer you, and I know you told Feliciano to tell me that you couldn’t see me anymore, but I can’t just let you go like that without hearing that you’ll be okay--  _ from your own mouth.” _

Lovino’s mouth feels dry. Why was he making this so hard? “You don’t know anything about me or my situation. I’ll be fine.” He curses himself when his voice cracks.

Antonio gives him a long, sad look. “I don’t think so. You’re only doing this for Feliciano, and you aren’t giving any thought about yourself. You’re trapping yourself: backing yourself into a corner-- and you’ll survive for a little, because you’re strong. But….” he trails off, reaching out and gently trailing a few fingers across Lovino’s cheekbone. “One day, that spark that I love so much will go out.”

Lovino clenches his jaw, forcing himself not to lean into the touch and to instead pull his face away. “It’s not your fucking job to save me, Antonio,” he snaps, and Antonio pulls his hand back, giving him a strange look before he smiles weakly.

“You’re right. The only one who can save you is yourself.”

Lovino is silent for another moment longer before he steps closer towards the door. “I… I have to get back to my Grandpa before he sees I’m missing,” Lovino says quietly. “Please, Antonio, just… just leave me alone. It’s for the best of us both.”

He slips away out the door before Antonio has any time to answer him, his heart ripping in half all over again.

He catches up with his grandfather’s crew just as they’re finishing up their conversation, and he manages to join back in without anyone even noticing he was gone. He finds out that they had decided to break for tea right before he returned, but Lovino doesn’t care very much for tea. 

“How about you go with them?” Roma offers. Lovino tries not to make a face, but nods anyway. Roma smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “Good boy. I have some business to attend to without you, but I’ll see you at dinner, alright?” Lovino doesn’t even complain, his argument with Antonio fresh in his mind, and nods again. Roma frowns a little when Lovino doesn't say anything more, but he leaves without another word. Lovino follows the group as they all move into the main dining area and sit. 

It’s not before long that the gossip begins, and he asks for a glass of wine.

He keeps thinking about Antonio and what he said, the words chanting in his mind over and over and he wants it gone. He doesn’t want to be where he right now because he feels like he wants to cry again and if he breaks down in front of these people he’ll never hear the end of it from Grandpa. When he receives his wine he chokes some down to try and get rid of the burning in his throat, but he doesn’t get much relief.

He looks across the table for another distraction to see most of the people engaged in their own conversations, and he has been painstakingly left out. Lovino can’t say that he minds, but he wishes that he had someone that could take his mind off of Antonio.

He spies at a younger woman sitting next to her mother, and her gloves are still on her hands as she reaches for her teacup. Two elderly women from across the table frown at her, murmuring things under their breath that sound suspiciously vile about her improper dining etiquette and Lovino can feel the blood draining from his face. He feels incredibly sick, but he can’t leave after his grandfather told him to stay. He reminds himself this is what he chose. Life was going to be like this from now on: endless glasses of wine and more gossip than he could ever need.

He feels like he’s going to need more wine when he finds his glass empty.

“So, I hear that Edelstein has been seeing some Prussian boy from below deck.”

Lovino’s stomach leaps when he recognizes the names subject to the gossip of the day, and knows it won’t be long before the two men are torn apart by the group’s talons.

“The piano player? Oh, I thought he was engaged to a nice Hungarian girl!”

“No, he turned her down for some unknown reason back in January. Now we know what that was!” 

The mother of the girl smacks her daughter’s hands away from the tea when she notices her daughter eating with her gloves on, causing the cup to knock aside and spill over the girl’s dress. She jumps in fright and pain from the scalding water, and her mother scoffs and grabs her by the wrist and drags her away from the table. No one says a word.

Lovino’s head is spinning, and when a waiter appears with a second glass of wine he takes it with shaking hands. You’re doing this for your brother’s happiness, he reminds himself as he takes a mouthful of red wine and swallows. Your brother and your Grandpa. Roma had never looked so happy in his life when Lovino had offered to take the position! Lovino was needed-- he was actually needed for the first time in his life! 

“I never thought Edelstein was like that! Do tell me the details!”

_ This was to keep Feliciano happy, this was to keep Feliciano happy, this was to keep Feliciano happy…. _

“Oh, keep your voices down! You can see them out on the deck now!”

Lovino freezes and drags his gaze over to the wide windows, where sure enough the two people at the subject of conversation are standing at the railing, looking out over the side of the ship. Gilbert is saying something excitedly, waving his hands around dramatically, and Roderich is just watching him interestedly before he says something that pauses Gilbert’s flailing before he laughs. Lovino can’t help but notice that they look surprisingly at ease compared to how they were acting the previous night.

He feels a pang of jealousy and scowls.

“Look what Edelstein is wearing,” one of the elderly women murmurs, her voice shocked. Roderich is still dressed quite modestly, wearing the clothes that he had been seen in last night, but it still looks like he’s of an upper class. Lovino doesn’t know what she’s shocked about.

As the group continues to talk and giggle over them, Lovino slowly feels more and more sick; like he’s slowly being poisoned every minute he’s stuck with these English men and women. He tries to block out their mocking laughs but each one digs a little deeper into his skin, closer and closer to his heart. He’s going to explode if they don’t change their topic soon.

Roderich and Gilbert lean in for a quick kiss and the table cooes mockingly, Lovino clenching his wine glass so hard that he’s afraid it’ll shatter with the sudden wave of envy that soaks him to the bone. The fact that they get to do that with each other, while Lovino just walked away from Antonio with no more than a few words-- it wasn’t fair.

He hates himself.

Roderich and Gilbert both take another sweeping look of the ocean before they walk back down along the deck, away from the windows and away from the mockery of the dining table. Lovino wants to go with them. He wants to leave all this  _ shit  _ at the table and go after them. He wants to know what to do.

He wants Antonio.

_ You’re amazing, Lovino, truly. _

Lovino’s had enough of this. 

With a quick flick of his wrist, he takes his wine and spills it all over his shirt. “Oops,” he sighs. “I’m such a klutz.” He looks back up at the group, ignoring all of their staring as best as he can, and gives them a breadwinning smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll need to go change.”

He stands and bids farewell to the rest of the guests he had been sitting with, and walks to the door to the deck as inconspicuously as he can before he exits the room and takes off in a full out sprint to catch up to the two he was looking for.

Gilbert and Roderich are taking an easy stroll down the deck, and they both turn when they hear the sound of pounding feet surging up behind them, stunned when they recognize the boy running to them. Lovino stops in front of them, lungs heaving and face flushed.

“Where’s Antonio?” he asks breathlessly.

 

 

 

Antonio is laying back on a bench near the back of the ship, staring at the sky and sighing heavily. He had brought his drawing supplies out with him to draw some of the passengers on deck to take his mind of things, but even that couldn’t distract him from the the questions and emotions swirling around in his brain. They laid over his chest, unused.

Antonio clenches his jaw. He really didn’t think that he could change Lovino’s mind now, could he? That Italian was as stubborn as stubborn people came: and he wasn’t going to change his mind over something that involved Feliciano. The Spaniard tries to smile, but he finds it difficult and his frown just deepens, trying to ignore the hurting in his ribcage. He couldn’t possibly be heartbroken by Lovino deciding his future, now, could he? He shouldn’t really be surprised that Lovino was choosing his family over him -- a man that he had just met only two days ago.

Yet, when Antonio remembers that he’s never going to see that gentle smile or hear that beautiful laugh again, he feels like he’s leaving a part of his heart behind with Lovino Vargas, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever get it back.

Antonio throws his arm over his face, groaning. 

Why did love hurt so much?

He lays like that for a while, just wallowing in his own self pity before he hears someone approaching him. He doesn’t bother seeing who it until they clear their throat.

“H-Hey… asshole,” the voice mutters. Antonio can’t believe it-- could it really be? He peeks from under his arm to see Lovino leaning over him, frowning, those hazel eyes darkened with some emotion that Antonio can’t really put his finger on. His eyes catch sight of red blooming on the edge of Lovino’s shirt and he leaps up to his feet, his sketchbook falling to the ground beside him, placing his hands on either side of Lovino’s face.

“What happened?” he asks urgently, and Lovino stares back at him, eyes flickering between the portfolio he had just thrown aside and Antonio himself, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. “Who hurt you? When I find out who did it I’ll make sure that they’ll never see the light of day--”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Lovino cuts in, his hands reaching up to pull Antonio’s hands away. “I’m not hurt.” Antonio studies him for a few second, trying to see any sort of sign in Lovino’s eyes that he was hurting or in pain, but he just finds bafflement. He feels his eyebrows pull together in confusion.

“But… the blood... on your shirt….”

Lovino’s eyebrows shoot up. “Blood?” He looks down at his shirt before his bewilderment melts away into understanding, and he snorts before he bursts into laughter. He can barely get his next words out because he keeps snickering. “Antonio, this isn’t blood. I  _ spilled  _ my  _ wine _ .”

Antonio doesn’t understand. “Wine…?”

“ _ Yes _ , wine.” Lovino wipes his eyes. “I dumped my wine all over my shirt so I could have an excuse to leave the stupid fucking tea party I was being forced to sit through.”

“Oh.” Antonio feels the panic that set in once he saw the red substance begin to subside when he knows Lovino is safe and not bleeding out, but Lovino’s explanation still doesn’t tell why he was here with him. He frowns, taking a step away from the Italian when he notices how close they are. “What happened to keeping away from me? For Feliciano’s sake?”

Lovino quiets down after a few moments, shrugging. “I changed my mind.” He purses his lips, looking down shyly and crossing his arms to fight against the chill of the air outside on the deck. “Feliciano can fight for his German on his own. I want to fight for what  _ I  _ want.”

Antonio feels like the sun is rising in his chest, a smile curling at his lips and he lets out a wild laugh before throwing his arms around Lovino, throwing his arms around him and lifting him up to twirl him around as Lovino lets out a surprised shout, his arms pushing back against Antonio’s tight hold.

“Stupid-- you’re gonna stain your shirt! Put me down!” Lovino commands fervently, and Antonio does what he’s told, setting him on the ground, but he doesn’t let him go, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. Despite his earlier protesting, Lovino doesn’t fight it; he holds onto Antonio almost as tightly as Antonio is holding onto him.

“I don’t care about my shirt,” Antonio says in a satisfied sigh, closing his eyes. “All I care about is that I’m here with you,  _ mi corazón.”  _

Lovino stiffens a little bit before he laughs nervously. “Alright, well, even if  _ you  _ don’t care about your clothes, I do. I need to go back to my room and change into something else.” His forehead warms a little and Antonio opens his eyes to discover Lovino’s face bright red, his eyes directed away from him. His voice is just above a mumble. “You can come too, if you want.”

Antonio freezes before something inside of him snaps, and an overwhelming rush of feelings towards this Italian rushes through him like a waterfall. He can’t help what he does next: he leans forward and presses their lips together before Lovino can say anything else. Lovino becomes a statue beneath him, and Antonio feels a flicker of fear because he’s afraid Lovino’s going to hit him, but it fades when he leans in a little farther, pulling his arms around Antonio’s neck to hold him closer. 

When they break apart from their first kiss, Antonio is quick to ask him a question that’s been on his mind since he’s met this boy who’s made him feel more emotions than anyone else has in his life in just these short few days. 

“Can I draw you, Lovino?” 

He knows the question is sudden, and when the Italian’s eyes widen and his red face seems to turn a deeper shade of crimson he knows that Lovino will most likely decline his question, but he cannot pass up a better opportunity. He’s tried without looking, and he just can’t get the shape of his smile right. Antonio smiles. “At least just your hands.” He pulls of of Lovino’s hands to his lips and places a gentle kiss on his palm. “You have beautiful hands.”

Antonio has never seen such a red face before. Lovino clears his throat after another few seconds of stunned silence, fighting to hold a smile back from spreading on his face. “God, will you  _ ever  _ stop with the dramatic bullshit?” He sighs. “Fine, but on one condition. You don’t have me drawn all stiff and dressed up like Feliciano’s done a billion times before. I’m sick of that.”

Antonio’s response is immediate. “Done.”

Lovino’s smile perks up a little before it turns guilty, and he laughs a little nervously. “Also… my Grandpa may send his Turkish bodyguard after me when he notices I’m gone, so we’ll have to avoid running into him.” He glances up at Antonio. “Still want to?”

Antonio smiles, leaning forward to kiss Lovino’s forehead and pull him close. “I’m not going to let you go a second time, Lovino,” he murmurs into his hair.

He feels Lovino smile against his neck. “Then it’s settled.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> draw me like one of your french girls antonio


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If had gone through with it -- just leaving you here without another word? I would have never forgiven myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE LATE UPDATES!! sorry guys! my internet got cut off at home and i didn't get a chance to upload this until now. i can't know when the next time i'll be able to update is, because i don't know when i'll be able to get to the library, but please take comfort in the fact that i'm really striving to cut up chapters to they're not hanging on super big cliff-hangers because of this. 
> 
> as for the chapter at hand -- take a look, i added a new tag!! if you don't feel like looking, just be warned: there are a few mentions of sex but they aren't really described.
> 
> okay, now that all of that is out of the way, please enjoy!

Lovino is already unbuttoning his shirt when they enter his room, Antonio gasping in awe over his surroundings as he steps carefully around the First Class suite, staring at each of the paintings hanging on the walls. He’s so completely enamored with the art that he doesn’t even notice his Italian companion undressing, and Lovino smirks a little bit at the obliviousness but doesn’t say a word. He crosses over to the armoire on the opposite side of the room, pulling out a fresh shirt and a new pair of slacks as Antonio continues his walk and his gazing.

The Spaniard pauses at the fireplace, looking closely at the clock and pots of flowers that decorate the mantel, reaching up and gently brushing aside a few leaves that are blocking the view of a small, framed photograph. It’s of the Vargas family: the two twin boys standing on either side of their grandfather. He smiles faintly at the familiar sight before he looks away to take in the rest of the room, and he lets out a low whistle. “You people really know how to live,” he says, green gaze cutting across the room before he lets out a sharp gasp and rushes over to a specific painting near the door he missed. “Is this _Picasso?”_

Lovino shucks his stained shirt off his shoulders. “Yeah. Feli went crazy for it when he saw it, even when Grandpa didn’t share the sentiment.”

Antonio laughs. “Yeah, many people don’t think he’s that special. But he’s Spanish! I have a feeling people are going to know his name someday.” He doesn’t move away and keeps his eyes on the painting, his arm tightening around his leatherbound portfolio as his voice grows soft. “Even if it takes hundreds of years.”

“Oh, like you?” Lovino can’t help but jab, and Antonio laughs.

“My art is just a hobby, Lovi,” he admits, reaching up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “ _You_ may think I’m good, but I still have a lot to learn. That’s part of the reason I spent a few years in France: I did a lot of figure studies there.” He looks over his shoulder and his breath catches in his throat when he sees Lovino, eyes trailing down the Italian’s bare chest momentarily before he meets Lovino’s eyes again and goes red, looking away quickly. “S-Sorry.”

Lovino fights down his own reddening face with a smirk, pulling on his fresh shirt after changing his slacks but not bothering to button it up at all. “What? I’m sure you’ve been looking at plenty of naked models when you were studying, haven’t you?”

Antonio huffs. “This is different! Y-You -- _you_ are different.” He takes a deep breath and turns again, the red still creeping up the back of his neck as he struggles to keep his eyes on Lovino’s face. “A-Anyway, are you sure Roma won’t walk in on us? I mean, this would definitely get us both into trouble. A _lot_ of trouble.”

Lovino rolls his eyes. “Bit late to be getting cold feet, Antonio?” He sighs, but smiles reassuringly. “No need to worry. Grandpa said that he’d be out for the rest of the night on business. He probably won’t be back until after eleven.”

Antonio’s sharp gaze keeps dropping down to Lovino’s skin, which both flatters and infuriates the Vargas, and his frustration only grows when Antonio pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he asks again, his hand reaching up for back of his neck again like he doesn’t know where else to put it. Lovino sighs.

“Will you just draw me like one of your French girls?” he snaps, picking up one of the pillows on the chair next to him and whipping it at Antonio. The Spaniard yelps a little, using his portfolio as a shield to keep himself for getting hit before scurrying towards the table across the way from him.

Antonio’s face is blazing red, and he’s whispering something under his breath that sounds almost like a prayer, and as he opens up his portfolio and takes out a fresh sheet of paper and a sharpened conté stick, his eyes are shut tight. Lovino has to note that it’s impressive, being able to set up his work station while blind, but he reminds himself that Antonio has done this same task countless other times before, with many different models other than himself, so his amazement doesn’t last long. Antonio blows his bangs out of his eyes before sitting down. He looks up expectantly, if not a little nervously, and smiles. “Ready, Lovi?”

Lovino shrugs, his heart fluttering. “I guess. Where do you want me to be?”

Antonio hums in thought, pulling his stick of conté across his pursed lips as he thinks. “Well, I want you looking relaxed, so maybe on the loveseat? Here--” He jumps out of his chair and drags the piece of furniture closer to the place where he’s sitting, staring at it for a few moments before arranging and then rearranging the cushions. He offers it to Lovino before sitting back down in his chair, pulling his portfolio with the blank sheet on it over into his lap.

Lovino looks at him for a second before remembering the position that he had seen girls in when he had been looking through Antonio’s sketchbook, and breathing in and out to try and still his racing heart. He moves over to the couch and sits down first, continuing his breathing exercises before lying on his back so his legs stretch out along the end of the loveseat. He struggles for a few moments, trying to find a comfortable position as he places his arms around his head and face. Antonio helps him a little, directing him to scoot a little here or there or move his arms a touch to the right until he’s properly positioned.

Antonio’s smile is soft.

“ _Sí_ \-- just like that, eyes on me. Stay right there, I’ll be done as soon as I can.”

Then Antonio starts his drawing. Or at least, he tries to, because after making one single line he fumbles with his conté and it drops to the floor. Lovino has to bite his cheek to hold back his laughter because he’s afraid that moving a slight inch will mess up his positioning.

“You look redder than a tomato,” he still teases. “And I’m still wearing pants. I didn’t know you’d be this skittish just drawing me with my shirt open or I would have accepted your offer more quickly. This is hilarious.”

Antonio looks ready to pass out, teeth worrying on his bottom lip. “I should have taken up landscapes,” he mutters to himself, but he takes a deep breath, in and out, and starts up his drawing again despite the burning red his cheeks have become.

True to his word, Antonio works quickly. His emerald eyes dart up and back down, between his figure and his paper, back and back again. Lovino can’t stop his heart from pounding, because Antonio’s gaze is so sharp as he draws, and Lovino feels like he’s being stared into, that Antonio’s looking past Lovino’s skin and blood and bones and into his _soul_. It’s exhilarating, and Lovino feels his breath catch when their gazes lock onto one another for a breath of a second.

He feels like he’s been laying there for hours, being laid bare under Antonio’s piercing sight, but it’s only a short time later when Antonio shakes his bangs out of his eyes, setting down his conté on the table next to him. He looks between Lovino, and then back to his sketch, then back to Lovino once more before he grins.

“Finished.”

Lovino sits up almost mechanically, fingers instantly moving to button up his shirt, and he looks down to avoid seeing at the disappointed expression on Antonio’s face. (And also so he can make sure he’s not skipping any button holes.) “So? Let me see it,” he says, standing and crossing the short space between them before hanging over the Spaniard’s shoulder to see his drawing.

He falls silent.

On the piece of paper, drawn with long, fluid lines of conté, is a boy that Lovino has never seen before. He knows it’s him, it can’t be any other, but even though he’s been staring at that face in the mirror for nineteen years, he can’t help but believe that the person laid out on the page was just another person entirely. This boy is handsome, with dark eyes and a ghost of a scowl on his lips as he stretches over the back of the loveseat, feathery locks of hair framing a face with smooth, clear skin. It’s everything that Lovino feels doesn’t belong on his being.

“Is... this really me?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper. Antonio laughs.

“Of course it’s you, Lovino!” he says cheerfully. He winks. “I wasn’t looking at any other pretty young men when I was working.” Suddenly his voice drops down to match the level Lovino’s just was, affection laced through his words as all hint of humor is completely wiped from his tone. “You really _are_ this beautiful.”

Lovino turns to face him and freezes when he finds their faces mere inches from each other. The air is thick with tension and he finds he can’t breathe, and all he knows is Antonio’s eyes are so bright and they’re drawing him in, and Lovino feels himself fluttering his eyes closed, leaning in before he can stop himself….

There’s a firm knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice.

“Mr. Vargas?”

It’s the Turk.

_“Shit--!”_ Lovino hisses, quickly pulling back and tucking his shirt into his pants and pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders before grabbing Antonio’s hand, who’s already thrown his drawing materials away into his portfolio and has stuffed the portfolio in his coat pocket. For some reason he can’t stop grinning even though he’s seconds away from being caught with the person he had promised he’d stay away from, dragging the Spaniard into the adjoining room as they hear the lock enter the keyhole. They cut across floor and quickly rush out the door just as the other door opens, slamming the door shut behind them.

“Act casually,” Lovino whispers as they pass by the door to Lovino’s room, and they slow their sprint to a walk, trying to look as in place as possible and not like the fugitives they were with their hands still joined together. Lovino looks over his shoulder just as Sadiq exits the other door to their suite, catching sight of them down the hall. Lovino starts walking faster, Antonio speeding up too, and with another look back and seeing that the Turk has started keeping pace with them, he breaks out into a sprint.

_“Run!”_ he shrieks, and without a word of complaint and a grin on his face Antonio takes off with him as soon as they exit the hallway. They speed past a small group of ladies and gentlemen, and Lovino hears a few of them gasp as they brush past and he can’t help but laugh when he hears Antonio shouting apologies as they run. They turn a quick corner to the elevators, yelling for the Operator to wait until they were on.

They’re both commanding the Operator immediately with “Take us down, take us down quick!” and “Go, go, go!” and Antonio even helps shut the steel gate as the Operator scrambles to comply. It’s when the elevator is actually moving down that Antonio pulls Lovino closer, gasping for breath when Sadiq catches up with them and bangs against the shut gate with his fists, looking quite frustrated as he watches them descend.

Lovino flips him off, unsuccessfully trying to keep a straight face when Antonio snorts before bursting into a fit of giggles beside him. Lovino grins when the Turk’s face shifts through three shades of red, snickering himself before waving sarcastically. “Bye!”

“Lovino, you’re terrible,” Antonio gasps into Lovino’s hair, and Lovino snorts again, reveling in how close he was to Antonio right now.

“I don’t care,” he responds, his head light and happy. “Come on, he’s gonna follow us by going down the stairs, we have to keep running.”

Antonio’s already opening the gate before they’re safely on the next floor, and he takes a spill out of the elevator, Lovino laughing hysterically when he realizes that Antonio hasn’t let go of his hand when he’s jerked down with him. Antonio rights himself, grinning like a maniac before Lovino pulls him towards the stairs to go down to third class, high on the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Since the stairwell is too narrow for the both of them to go down side by side, Antonio goes down first and trips down the last one, running into the wall, and since Lovino can’t keep track of his feet he crashes into his back, laughing breathlessly. Antonio takes his hand again but they accidentally run into a servant with a trolley, Antonio swearing in Spanish as he catches things before they fall over and placing them back on top, but as soon as he’s finished they take off towards another hallway, shutting the door behind them as they finally stop and try to compose themselves.

Lovino has never thought of a time he’s laughed so much in his life, his heart still racing as he gulps down breaths of air. Antonio wipes his forehead, collapsing against the wall as he tries to control his breathing. His eyes are bright and sparkling.

“Wow,” he says, blinking in shock, but his smile is still the widest Lovino’s ever seen on any person he’s ever known. “That’s one tough Turk. Are you sure he’s only a bodyguard?”

Lovino leans against the wall opposite of Antonio, cheeks flushed from running, finally getting his laughter under control. “To be completely honest with you, I think he was a cop when my grandfather first picked him up. To make sure nothing happened to him when he crossed through the darker parts of Italy, or at least have back-up if anyone tried to fight him.” Lovino closes his eyes for a moment, almost like he’s imagining it before he opens his eyes again. “I’m sure he’s run after some fugitives before.”

Antonio raises an eyebrow, reaching forward and pulling Lovino in his arms. “Running after fugitives? Kind of like us?” he hums, leaning in for a kiss before he breaks off, his eyes widening at whatever he sees behind his partner. Lovino turns to look through the porthole, only to see Sadiq sprinting down the stairs they just made it down. Antonio’s frown turns disbelieving as Lovino’s heart rate picks up again.

_“Meirda,”_ he sputters out before Sadiq spots them and charges toward them.

“Go!” Lovino screams, and they sprint down the the E-Deck hallway, taking a sharp left before coming to a dead end. Antonio’s eyes sweep the corridor before they find a door labeled “Crew Only” and he pushes Lovino towards it before opening it up and ushering them both inside, pulling it closed and latching it shut.

They’re greeted by the roar of machines, the deafening hum of the Titanic all around them and Lovino throws his hands over his ears. There’s no way out, and they’re not about to go out the door they came in when Lovino notices the door shake from Sadiq slamming against it from the outside, trying to get in.

“What do we do now?” Lovino shouts, and Antonio turns to look at him, eyes wide and hands over his ears as well. He cracks a smile.

“What?” he yells back, and Lovino really has to fight himself and control his urge to punch him. Antonio looks around the room once more for some sort of escape, and he finally faces the latter to go down to the boilers. The way he grins at Lovino makes it look like they’re about to do something they really shouldn’t.

Which they were already.

Lovino shakes his head, but he can’t believe he’s doing this. He follows Antonio down the latter into the hot, sweaty depths of the boilers, and Antonio helps him down the rest of the way by wrapping his arms around Lovino’s waist and lifting him down. Lovino stares down the row of men working, shoveling coal into the enormous fires before he’s startled by a voice.

“Hold up!” He and Antonio whip around to see one of the workers staring slack-jawed at the two of them, a shovel thrown over his shoulder. “What are ya two doin’ down ‘ere?” Lovino doesn’t break eye contact, reaching blindly for Antonio until his hand connects with the lapels on Antonio’s coat. He grabs on, already starting to run down the row of boilers and away from the worker. Antonio dutifully follows behind him, even when the man shouts, “Oi! Come back here! It could be dangerous!”

Lovino bursts into laughter as they sprint down past all the workers, Antonio brightly encouraging them with their work and reassuring them that there’s nothing for them to worry about as they rush past. They weave in and out of pathways and are careful not to knock anything over as they pass. Antonio finally holds Lovino back from continuing any further when they sneak into a hidden hideaway, away from most of the noise and all the workers.

Lovino is about to ask what he’s doing when Antonio pulls him close enough to kiss his temple, and suddenly the air is thick and it’s not just because of the steam. Lovino tilts his head up so he can reach Antonio’s mouth, and before he knows it their lips are pressed together in the hazy hot, heat in the boiler room. Antonio kisses him gently at first, little soft pecks that Lovino can feel the smile on, but before long he becomes a little more earnest, the kisses a little more raw. Lovino’s already lightheaded from the adrenaline high and the steam all around them, and as soon Antonio cups his cheek and tilts his head to deepen the kiss he nearly groans, pulling his arms around Antonio’s shoulders.

Trailing a line of kisses across his cheek and down his jawline, Antonio unbuttons a few more of Lovino’s buttons so he can pull the fabric aside and start grazing his lips and teeth over the soft skin at Lovino’s neck. Lovino bites his lip, struggling to keep his voice in when Antonio sucks at a patch of skin where his neck meets his shoulder. He staggers a bit.

Antonio feels his stance weaken and pulls back, concerned. He gives a worried smile when Lovino glares up at him through his lashes.

“Don’t just stop,” he mutters, looking away quickly as his face flushes through a whole other shade of red. Antonio laughs quietly, kissing him on the cheek.

“Not here, it’s too hot. You look ready to pass out. Come on,” he says, pulling away to take Lovino by the hand and lead him to an exit. They only have to search for a few moments, and when they find a door that will take them out into the cargo hold they open it up and are blasted with a rush of frigid air. After a moment of shock after leaving one extreme to go into another, they file into the cargo hold, closing the door to the boiler room behind them.

“Damn,” Lovino whispers. “It’s fucking cold in here.”

Antonio laughs. “It’s certainly a change, isn’t it?” He doesn’t let go of Lovino’s hand as they weave in and out of the towers of stacked boxes and luggage, stopping when they come to an automobile parked in the center of the room, like it’s meant to be the center of attention. It’s a Renault, painted a deep red and freshly polished. Lovino remembers when it was lifted on board four days previous: it belonged to one of the richest members in first class, but Lovino couldn’t remember his name.

Antonio whistles in awe, letting go of Lovino’s hand to sit behind the wheel. Lovino climbs in the back, opening then leaning through the window that separates the back compartment from the front seat. Antonio takes a moment to look at the controls before he places his hands on the steering wheel and honks the horn, putting on his best smile.

“Where to, Mr. Vargas?” he asks in his best imitation of an English accent. Lovino holds back laughter for the sake of the pretend game, for it was the worst thing he had ever heard in his entire life. He leans close to Antonio’s ear, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“To the stars,” he breathes, and he grins when he can feel the Spaniard shiver underneath him. He loops his arms underneath Antonio’s and he pulls, bringing Antonio over the seat to join him in the back. They shift of a few seconds until they’re huddled together in a corner of the backseat, Lovino nestled up to Antonio’s chest and the two of them locking their fingers together.

Antonio puts an arm around him, placing a kiss on Lovino’s forehead. “Nervous?” he asks, those vibrant green eyes meeting Lovino’s hazel.

Lovino swipes a tongue over his lips, shaking his head after a second.

“No,” he answers honestly, his voice barely audible. He fights against his wildly beating heart and leans against Antonio's shoulder, pulling the Spaniard’s fingers to his lips before kissing each appendage gently. Antonio is watching him closely, and Lovino meets his eyes again, swallowing away the rest of his anxiety as he pulls Antonio’s hand down to touch his chest. “Touch me, Antonio.”

The Spaniard hesitates, his expression conflicted as he looks into Lovino’s eyes. “Is it really alright?” he asks. Lovino nods, and something changes in Antonio’s eyes before he leans forward and connects their lips, pushing Lovino back against the leather seat of the chair so he’s lying on his back, pressing their mouths together feverishly.

Lovino welcomes the weight.

He craves it.

 

 

 

The two of them just curl up underneath Antonio’s coat, skin pressed against skin as they slowly come down from their highs, breathing in the smell of each other mingling with sweat and sex as they regain their breath. Antonio has his cheek pressed against Lovino’s bare chest, eyes closed peacefully, and it takes Lovino a few moments before he realizes there’s a slight shake to his frame. He frowns.

“You’re trembling,” he breathes, and Antonio opens his eyes lazily to look up at him fondly, his smile looking a bit sleepy.

“I’ll be alright,” he murmurs, placing a kiss square against Lovino’s chest before turning back to lie his head over Lovino’s heart. He sighs out deeply, Lovino bringing his hand up to languidly comb through those chocolate curls with his fingers, studying them as they bounce back into place despite how sweaty they are. Antonio’s voice floats up again. “I can hear your heart beating, Lovino,” he says quietly. “It’s thrumming so quickly, but it’s so gentle.”

Lovino strains against Antonio’s weight momentarily so he can bend down and place a kiss on the top of his lover’s head, pulling him closer underneath the coat they’re both under. He doesn’t really mind Antonio’s full weight on him too much, it makes him feel safe and warm in the cold air that was to be expected of the unheated cargo hold.

Antonio adjusts himself so he’s looking up at Lovino closely, head tilted to the side with half-lidded eyes, his bottom lip pushing out in a confused pout before he reaches up to inspect that single strand of Lovino’s hair that refuses to stay down. Lovino watches him with mild interest until Antonio tugs on it. He flinches.

“ _Ow_ , Antonio.”

Antonio jerks his hand back, his eyes widening. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t think I was being too rough.”

Lovino raises an eyebrow. “It’s my hair. It’s gonna hurt if you pull on it, dumbass.”

Antonio ignores the comment when he finds no malice in Lovino’s tone, still studying the strand curiously. “It’s just so strange, that curl. You and your brother both have one, and even though you’re twins they’re not in the same place… come to think about it, Roderich has one too!” He hums in thought, but sighs as he moves back to rest the way he was lying before, tucking his arm around Lovino’s back. “I guess I just make friends with a lot of curious people.”

At the mention of Roderich’s name, all the memories of the talk over the mid afternoon tea seep back into Lovino’s mind and he frowns, looking up to gaze at the room of the Renault’s ceiling as he cards his fingers through Antonio’s hair mindlessly.

“Antonio, can I ask you something?” he breathes.

“Mmm-- what is it, _mi cariño?”_

Lovino bites his lip momentarily. “Remember… how I asked you about Gilbert and Roderich the other night at the party?” He feels Antonio still overtop of him and he nearly bites through his tongue while he’s speaking. The Spaniard is quiet for a few seconds longer before he speaks again, his voice dropped down to a murmur.

“ _Sí_ , what about them?”

“Can… can you tell me what happened between them?”

There’s a long period of silence. Lovino waits for Antonio to reject his request, as he realized as soon as he asked that it was personal matter that he didn’t need to be sticking his nose into, but the question has stuck in the back of his mind since he thought of it that night down in third class, and he wants to know the answer so the curiosity would finally leave him alone.

Finally, Antonio sighs. “I guess I can tell you, since I saw them shortly after I saw you earlier today. They cleared everything up between the two of them, so what happened in the past is only a memory now.” Antonio clears his throat a little, nuzzling closer to Lovino’s skin, and begins.

“Roderich wasn’t always an A class sort of guy. It was his grandfather who was the one with money. So yes, Roderich had some benefits, and he was better off than us for a lot of things, but he still wasn’t as wealthy as the man he is upstairs. He and I go farther back than Gilbert and he do, because, er, he and I were together for a while. Maybe for a year or two, when we were pretty young. When that was going on, he met the others. He didn’t get along with Francis very much, and at first it didn’t seem like he could stand Gilbert at all. It was _kind of_ a mess.”

Antonio laughs nervously at the memory, and Lovino furrows his eyebrows together at this newfound information. So that’s why Antonio and Roderich had looked so comfortable with each other on the stairs: they had been together for a long time.

“So you two had…” Lovino tries to find the right words when he feels Antonio staring at him. He feels his cheeks reddening. “Like we just did?”

Antonio is quiet. “A few times.”

Lovino stares at the ceiling, feeling a little foolish he asked, but he still isn’t surprised about it. Antonio seemed a bit too knowledgeable about what they did for Lovino to think he had been a virgin in the first place. What _does_ surprise him though, is how much he finds he doesn’t care. Yes, there’s a small hint of jealousy that bites at him, but when he remembers how Roderich had looked with Gilbert when he had seen them, he knows his Spaniard is safe.

Antonio’s voice pulls him back to reality even though it’s a hint of a whisper in volume. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you before?”

“No.” Lovino sighs, partly to clear his head and try to appear flippant. “It happened way before I even met you. Just tell me what happened between him and Gilbert.”

Antonio is quiet for a few moments more, but he tightens his hold around Lovino and breathes out as he continues. “A-Anyway, we found out that Gilbert and Roderich found out they had a friend in common: a Hungarian girl named Elizaveta Héderváry. She had a pretty face and an even sharper tongue -- I liked her. She was kind of in the same boat as Roderich, with herself being the only heir to her grandfather’s fortune, but she had only found out about it after she had grown up. She spent her childhood as poor as the rest of us had.” He smiles sheepishly. “You’d think that she’d at least soften the arguments that the two of them had, but they seemed to get along even lesser so after that….” Antonio sighs again. “It was even a bigger mess.”

Remembering the other first class passengers talking at tea about a Hungarian girl that Edelstein was engaged to, Lovino suddenly knows how this story was going to end.

“I’m not too clear on when it started, but apparently after Roderich and I had split up, he and Gilbert started messing around behind everyone’s backs, including Roderich’s grandfather. Elizaveta was the first to find out, but she made us swear not to tell anyone else, which Francis and I promised we wouldn’t. She was happy that they were happy, and was content to keep it that way. Things started to settle between everyone after that. They still bickered a lot, but it seemed a lot tamer and Gilbert seemed a lot happier than before.” Antonio pauses. “But  just when things finally seemed fine, they started going wrong.”

Antonio closes his eyes. “Roderich’s grandfather told him to marry Elizaveta. He said for Roderich to inherit his business, he needed to marry a woman who could expand the wealth of the family… and Elizaveta seemed to be the perfect choice.” Antonio forces a smile. “It was kind of sudden, really, considering we were barely eighteen at that point and he hadn’t talked about anything as serious as marriage until then. Roderich… didn’t know what to do. The last night I saw him, he and Gilbert were talking about the whole issue. Gilbert was saying that Roderich should just explain what was going on between them, but Roderich was scared of what his grandfather would say. He was afraid of losing his family and his place as heir, the safety of having a secure future. Things between them got a little heated, and then Roderich just straight out refused telling his grandfather and instead just put an end to his relationship with Gilbert. Gilbert didn’t like being tossed aside so easily and he fought back, trying to get Roderich to change his mind, but it was done. I’m not sure who threw the first punch, but soon they were on the ground, screaming and rolling around on the ground, and Francis and I had to step in and pull them apart because they looked like they were going to _kill_ each other. It was terrifying.”

Antonio shifts so his forehead is pressed against Lovino’s chest, hiding his face. “Roderich left the next day, not speaking a word to any of us. Gilbert was furious and heartbroken, and he lost himself in a bottle of hard liquor and bar fighting for a while. It took us forever to pull him out of it.” He sighs again. “I was so shocked to see him aboard the Titanic-- especially without Elizaveta. He told me he regretted everything that happened, and he wanted to make things right between him and Gilbert. That’s why I told him where to find us at the party.”

When Antonio is finished, Lovino is so stunned that he doesn’t know what to do at first, but when he notices that his Spaniard is strangely quiet he wriggles down in the seat so he’s closer to Antonio’s face. He places a quick kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry I almost did the same thing.” Lovino pulls Antonio’s head into the crook of his neck. “If had gone through with it-- just leaving you here without another word? I would have never forgiven myself.”

Lovino feels Antonio’s lips pull into a tight smile against his skin. “That’s exactly what Roderich said to me about Gilbert.”

They’re both quiet for a few moments, before there’s the sound of the door to the boiler room opening that cause the two of them to freeze, eyes wide. They immediately scramble for their clothes, pulling on underwear and pants faster than they’ve ever dressed before as they button on their shirts. Antonio hushes Lovino when he nearly bursts into laughter, trying to hide his own smile, but peeking out the window to avoid the sights of the crewmembers looking for them. When they’re both fully clothed, he takes one last glance before holding his finger to his lips, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the car door, and pulling it open.

When there’s no change in the sound of the crewmen, they both slip out the back and make their way quickly across the cargo hold and run up the steps before anyone has time to see them, and it’s not until they leave the hold and burst out onto the deck of the ship, laughing breathlessly as they hold onto each other for support.

“ _Dio Mio_ , what if they caught us? Oh my God, you crazy bastard, oh my God.” Lovino doesn’t even know what he’s saying, but somehow it’s even colder outside and Antonio is holding onto him so tightly he can’t help himself when he leans up and presses their foreheads together. “When this ship docks, I’m getting off with you.”

Antonio blinks down at him in surprise, his eyes crinkling at the corners in pure happiness as he laughs boldly. “This is crazy, Lovino--!”

“I know, I know, nothing makes sense!” Lovino says instantly. “But that’s why I trust it.”

Antonio gives him a blinding smile  before he smashes their lips together, picking Lovino up and spinning him around in a circle before setting him back down, and for once, everything seemed to be going right in Lovino’s life.

Until they’re both jerked out of the kiss when the ship shudders underneath them, groaning like the world was coming to an end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably one of my most favorite parts in this entire fic tbh, i really enjoyed writing it. (also im a fucker for some spaus, please dont hate me lmao)
> 
> until next time, thank you for supporting!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It looks okay,” he says, but there’s uncertainty in his tone. “I mean, I don’t see anything.”

Antonio jerks back in sudden worry after the bump, looking up and around before he gasps. Lovino whips around just in time to see a giant iceberg brushing by the ship, and Antonio shouts and pulls the Italian back as a few large hanging chunks are hacked off by the crowsnest and fall onto the deck where they were just standing. They smash against the deck and burst into a number of smaller pieces, skittering across the floor on either sides of Lovino and Antonio’s feet.

His heart fluttering in unease, the Italian pulls his lover’s hand with him as they rush past the pieces of ice scattered on deck over to the starboard railing, watching as the terrifying iceberg disappears behind the end of the ship. “What the hell are they doing?” he whispers sharply, trying to peek over the side to see if there’s any damage to the ship, but he can’t see anything. “Do you think the ship was damaged?”

Antonio puts his hand over Lovino’s that’s gripping the railing (a little too tightly, he thinks) and leans over his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“It looks okay,” he says, but there’s uncertainty in his tone. “I mean, I don’t see anything.”

There’s a bit of a commotion behind them as more people step onto the deck where they’re standing, looking around and questioning the strange bump. It’s not before long they notice there’s nothing putting them in immediate danger, and they start kicking the ice around like they’re pretending to play a football game. Lovino bites his lip, and after a few seconds he glances back over his shoulder at Antonio. The Spaniard is still looking down into the cold, black water, a unplaceable emotion on his face, and Lovino feels his discomfort rise when he can't decipher the mood around them.

“Antonio,” he says tentatively, and the Spaniard blinks quickly before meeting his gaze. “Do you really think we’ll be okay?”

Antonio flashes a smile. “It was just a little bump, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Lovino turns back to the edge of the ship: deep down into the ripples in the water that seem to shrink as the engines slow the Titanic to a stop. He  doesn’t know a damn thing about ships, and even though he doesn't think Antonio does either, he tries not to let the uneasiness in his heart take over his brain.

It’s easy when Antonio slips a piece of ice down the back of his shirt. He shrieks in surprise, straightening his spine in an attempt of get the ice away from the warm skin of his back but the action only makes it slip lower on his skin. “You basta-- _aah!”_ Antonio bursts into laughter when Lovino cuts himself off with another small yip of discomfort, dancing out of the way of Lovino’s reaching hands. The Italian wiggles around for another second before he darts down and grabs his own piece of ice and scrambles after the Spaniard, chasing him up the steps.

He nearly has whiplash from how fast Antonio stops him, going completely silent when Mr. Andrews, Captain Smith, and another man brush past them without a glance, their faces grim and their hushed tones dark. Lovino flinches when he looks up and sees the look on Antonio’s face, as dark and serious as the captain's had been.

“This is bad,” he murmurs, quiet enough that only Lovino can hear. Lovino forces himself to swallow the lump that has formed in his throat.

“We have to tell Feliciano and Grandpa,” he says instantly, and Antonio cringes.

“Now it’s worse,” he mutters. He pauses for a moment before he peeks at Lovino remorsefully, his green eyes cloudy in thought. “Not your brother; Roma.”

Lovino sighs. “I know, I know, but we have to. Come on.”

Lovino pulls Antonio the whole way back up to first class, only to see Sadiq waiting for them at the end of the hallway they need to take to take to get back down to Lovino’s suite. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed and he smirks a little when he sees the two of them, stepping away from where he was resting against. Lovino scowls, moving between Antonio and the Turk before he has time to try anything. “If you even _think_ about touching him I’ll kill you.”

Sadiq doesn’t even flinch at the threat. “Welcome back, Lovino. Roma is expecting you.”

Lovino grabs for Antonio’s hand and drags him harder, putting some distance between him and the bodyguard. “Yeah, I expected as much,” he grumbles, fighting against the fear that bubbles up in his chest at the thought of confronting his grandfather after deliberately breaking a promise with him. If he thought Roma was mad before, he would be absolutely livid now. He remembers Antonio is with him and feels a bit of a flush of courage, squeezing the taller man’s hand. He wasn't alone. “Come on, Antonio.”

Antonio's grasp feels hesitant. “Er, maybe I should stay out here, Lovino,” he says quietly. “I dunno if Roma would--”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lovino snaps. “I’ve made up my mind, so Grandpa can deal with it. I don’t care what he says about you.” He slows his pace a little before he looks over his shoulder, making sure Antonio doesn’t misunderstand him. “I'm not leaving you behind.”

Antonio blinks a bit, and Lovino turns away from his sight so his lover doesn’t notice the red seeping into his cheeks as he keeps trekking to his suite, but he doesn’t miss the air around Spaniard relaxing considerably. He stops outside of his door for a moment, collecting his thoughts before he squeezes Antonio’s hand and wraps his free hand around the handle and pushes it open.

Roma is found pacing back and forth across the carpet, and when he turns to see Lovino and Antonio standing in the door he blanches. He looks like he’s about to say something to Lovino before his eyes train on Antonio and they narrow. “What is _he_ doing here?”

Lovino doesn’t back down even though his heart is racing faster than it's ever had before. “I invited him. That’s not why I’m here though-- listen--”

“We’ve talked about this. About your _future_ \--”

“That wasn’t my future,” Lovino says sharply. “It was yours.”

Roma hisses a sigh through his teeth, spinning on his heel to cross over to the fireplace. “God _dammit_ , Lovino, why are you so stubborn? You always fight with me, no matter how much you can’t see that I’m doing this for _you_! Why aren't you be more like your brother?”

Lovino stiffens, clenching Antonio’s hand tighter, and he can feel the Spaniard’s worried gaze flickering between him and the agitated Italian gripping the mantle of the fireplace as he glares at the clock. “I’m _not_ Feliciano,” Lovino spits, his words dripping poison. “And I’ll never be Feliciano. I can’t be someone I’m not, _Nonno_ , no matter how much you want me to be. Stop trying to make me a different person and just accept me as me!”

Augustus Vargas doesn’t say anything for a long time. “I don’t want you to become a different person, Lovino.” His voice is dreadfully quiet. “I could never wish that on you. I just wish you could be happier, more carefree like Feli is. I thought… I thought I could….” He sighs again.

Lovino frowns, worried by the sudden change in his grandfather’s emotions, but he doesn’t want to stop and try to understand. “I can’t be happy like this, Grandpa.”

“I’ve noticed.” Roma falls silent, his head ducking down in deep thought. “I notice more than you think.” Lovino swallows, and when his grandfather doesn’t speak anymore after that he takes another look around the room before he speaks up.

“Grandpa, where’s Feliciano?”

Roma barks a laugh. “He’s been gone all day. Never came back to his room once.”

Something drops in Lovino’s stomach and he is painfully reminded why he came here with Antonio in the first place. “Listen to me, _please_ Grandpa, I didn’t come here to argue with you. Something happened to the ship outside when Antonio and I were out on deck--”

Before Lovino has any time to say anything more, their steward enters the room. “Sir, I’ve been told that I should ask you to put on your lifebelts.” He passes through the unsociable atmosphere of the room and over to the chest of drawers, pulling down the safety devices from the top shelf and placing them on the table next to Roma before turning to leave. “Remember to dress warmly, it’s quite cold out tonight!”

Roma looks at the pile of lifebelts on the table closely for what seems like hours before he slowly turns back to Lovino, his expression morphed into one that shows he’s trying to understand the severity of the situation. He raises his hand when Lovino opens his mouth to speak, his eyes closed. “Lovino, I don’t know what happened outside, and I don’t know what’s going to happen now, but I need you to do something for me.” He finally opens his eyes to look at his grandson, his tone deadly serious. “You need to find your brother. Make sure he’s alright, and keep him safe.” Roma sighs again, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know if this will blow over or not, but I just want you two to look out for each other.”

Lovino furrows his eyebrows. “But what about you?”

Roma straightens his frame, adjusting his coat. “I have to maintain the image of a respectable gentleman. If it’s really as bad as your face made it look when you walked in at first, I’ll have to appear calm and compliant.” He takes two of the lifebelts and crosses the room, pushing them into Lovino’s hands. “Take one of these to your brother, and keep the other for yourself.” He turns to Antonio. “Make sure he puts his on, since he only seems to listen to you, Mr. Fernández. He can be a very stubborn boy.”

Antonio opens his mouth but at first no sound comes out, and he coughs slightly when his voice comes out strained. “Y-Yes, of course, sir.” He looks over to Lovino for some sort of explanation, but Lovino looks just as lost as he feels as he exchanges a look with him.

“Grandpa--”

“Just go find Feliciano before I change my mind about that Spaniard,” Augustus says suddenly. He looks over his shoulder. “I don’t give second chances, Lovino.”

Lovino fumbles with the items in his hands before he tucks the lifebelts under his arm and nods, taking Antonio’s hand again. Antonio notices his fingers are freezing and there’s a bit of a tremble to them, but Lovino takes a breath. “Of course.” He turns to the door, tugging on Antonio’s hand before his voice becomes deathly quiet. _“Grazie, Nonno.”_

He doesn’t wait for an answer and instead pushes out the door, dragging Antonio behind him before hurrying down the hallway, not looking back.

“What was that?” Antonio manages to ask once they brush past a handful of the passengers leaving their rooms and gathered into the hallways, making it past Sadiq. The Turk does nothing, only watching them pass. Lovino stops when they make it down the steps of the Grand Staircase and stop at the edge of the banister to take in a shuddering breath, and Antonio instantly feels his heart leap in concern. “Lovino, are you alright?”

It surprises him when Lovino laughs shakily, pushing Antonio’s roaming hands away from his shoulders. “Holy shit, I thought he was going to _murder_ me back there. I just need a moment to breathe, I’m alright.” Antonio’s frown deepens when he sees how violently Lovino’s hands are trembling, but he gives him the space he’s asked for. Soon more and more passengers from first class are filtering into the space the two of them are in, and it’s not before long that Antonio starts to feel those glares into his back and he swallows nervously.

Lovino looks up after a moment. “If any of them tell you you’re not supposed to be here, I’ll throw them overboard.” He looks distracted. “I’m sure my brother’s with that potato bastard down in third class, we should start looking there.” He stops when something behind Antonio catches his eye and he stands straight, his expression hardening as he pushes past Antonio to get to a man who looks a bit lost climbing the steps.

It’s Thomas Andrews.

“Mr. Andrews,” Lovino calls, moving quickly to the man’s side but keeping his voice low so he doesn’t alert the other guests making their way inside. Antonio strays behind the smaller Italian, taking the lifebelts when Lovino hands them to him. Andrews turns to face the Vargas boy, his face pale and his expression turning to one of pure heartbreak. Lovino frowns. “I saw the iceberg on deck, and I can see the look in your eyes. Please tell me the truth.”

Andrews’ face seems to drain of whatever color was left, and his skin turns as white as a sheet. His voice is a mere whisper when he finally speaks, his eyes darting around the room to make sure that Lovino and Antonio are the only ones that hear him. “This ship will sink.”

Lovino feels like his heart is gripped in ice when he hears the words. The great unsinkable ship -- it was actually going beneath the waves? In his heightening disbelief, he manages a choked out, “You’re certain?”

Andrews nods slowly, like even he can’t believe his own words. “In an hour, all of this--” he motions to the room around them “-- will be at the bottom of the Atlantic.”

Lovino feels his hand covering his mouth, the news feeling like he’s been socked in the stomach and he’s feels like it hurts to breath. Antonio swears under his breath and Lovino turns to see his Spaniard with the same grim expression he had been wearing when they saw the Captain outside. Andrews places a hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention back to him. His eyes are wide and pleading.

“Please, only tell who you must. I don’t want to be responsible for a panic. And get to a boat if you can, don’t wait." He hesitates. "Remember... what I told you about the boats?”

_There aren’t enough for everyone aboard._

Lovino feels like the atmosphere gets that much heavier around him, and he nods hollowly. “Yes, I understand.”

Andrews gives his shoulder a small squeeze before he turns back on his way, moving from each group of passengers to the next, urging them to put on their lifebelts and head out to the boats.

Lovino feels like his entire world has been shattered, and as panic rises in his throat he feels his hands begin to shake again. He’s snapped out of his thoughts when Antonio gently turns him around to face him. His steady green gaze is worried and serious at the same time, and his voice pulls Lovino back down to Earth.

“We have to find Felciano and the others,” he says softly, cupping Lovino’s cheek gently. “We have to warn them so they can hopefully get onto one of the lifeboats, but I’ll need your help to do that. Can you do that for me?” Lovino nods weakly, and Antonio smiles. “I promise, I won’t leave your side.” He leans forward and kisses him gently. He hands Lovino his lifebelt when he pulls away. “Now please put on this lifebelt, _mi corazón_. I made a promise to your grandfather that I’d keep you safe.”

Lovino makes a face. “Not until we find Feli.”

Antonio frowns. “Lovino, _por favor--_ ”

“I promise I’ll put on the damn lifebelt when we find Feliciano,” Lovino argues, squeezing his eyes shut. His hands meet Antonio’s on his cheek, holding him closer. “I just need to make sure he’s safe first. _Per favore.”_

He feels Antonio’s gaze turn sharp, staring him down for a few moments before he sighs in defeat. “Alright, alright, fine. As long as you get it on before--” he forcibly stops himself, clearing his throat. “W-Well, that doesn’t matter right now. We need to get to third class as fast as we can.”

“The elevator.” Lovino opens his eyes. “The elevator can take us down the whole way. We’ll be able to get to him more quickly that way. Come on, we don’t have much time.” He pulls away from Antonio and starts making his way back down the steps, making sure Antonio is following him before they make a hard turn to make it to the lifts.

He only hopes he can find his brother in time, because he can't imagine losing Feliciano to the sea.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE LONG PAUSE!! i still dont have internet at home, and i was stuck there for a while and then i got caught up in the east coast snowstorm -- 30 inches of snow kept me inside lmao. im still not sure about update times,because i dont have internet and im not sure when ill be able to afford to get it turned back on and also ive started writing a few other things that are gonna keep me busy. dont worry, this is still my main priority!!
> 
> anyway, things are kicking up!! im planning on having 5 ?? more chapters to this thing when i divide and edit, so be excited! also, i /will/ be changing the archive warning when it appears in the fic. just a heads up!!
> 
> thank you for supporting!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The power’s starting to fail,” Antonio says quietly as he pulls away, and his frown deepens on his face before he glances back over to Lovino, holding onto his hand tighter. “We have to hurry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! im back w/ internet and things are beginning to pick up now. thanks for keeping up with this, im really happy with the response this is getting! forgive me for any mistakes or typos, and please enjoy the next chapter!

Before they can even make it to the lifts, Lovino’s barreled over by a patron that moves so quickly he can’t see their face, and he crashes back into Antonio’s arms as all three of them plummet to the floor in a huge heap. Lovino is too shocked to speak, his mind only drawing the worse possible situations possible, and he tries to scramble back from his attacker to get away... only to find a familiar face trying to regain his sense of direction after falling to the ground.

It’s Roderich Edelstein. The man looks up after snatching his glasses up off the ground, making sure they aren't broken after they had been thrown aside in their collision. His violet eyes are blown wide with terror, his face nearly as pale as Thomas Andrews’ had been, his hair a windblown mess, and there’s a slight tremor that takes hold of his hands as he shoves the wire frames back to rest on his face.

“Roderich?” Antonio asks, quick to his feet as he helps both Lovino and the Austrian to theirs. “What’s wrong? Where’s--”

“Gilbert has been arrested by the Master of Arms,” Roderich blurts, grabbing Antonio by his upper arm. "The ship -- it's sinking! We need to help him before he dies, Antonio! Please, we need to--”

Antonio shrugs off the Austrian’s hold only to grab him by the shoulders, the look on his face instantly halting Roderich’s hasty stream of words and lodging a piece of ice into Lovino’s heart. His expression is dark, no trace of the once cheerful Spaniard in his face, and something about it makes the severity of their situation all too worse. If GIlbert was taken by the Master of Arms, he could have been anywhere aboard the ship. Not only did they need to find Gilbert, but Feliciano too, and then they needed to get to the boats so they could escape before the Titanic was completely submerged in the sea. 

All of that, in less than an hour.

Lovino feels his stomach lurch. They couldn’t possibly do all that.

“Calm down and tell me what happened,” Antonio orders, his tone flat. “Panicking isn’t going to help anyone right now, we don’t have the time.”

Roderich’s expression falters a little bit from the tone of Antonio’s voice, but it snaps him out of his hysteria and he takes a deep breath, composing himself almost immediately. His voice still trembles a little when he speaks. “Gilbert and I -- we were going back up into first class when we felt the ship jerk, and then all the sudden we were stopped by the Master of Arms. Gilbert was taken down because someone accused him of thievery, and they wouldn’t believe me when I told them he was innocent. They even said that I was an accomplice and tried to arrest me as well, but Gilbert confessed to the crime so they’d let me go. He... he lied for me.” 

“Do you know where he is?” Antonio asks. Roderich nods.

“I do. I have to take the lift down to the bottom of the ship to get to him, but they won’t let me down.”

“We’ll get you down the lift,” Lovino cuts in, and Roderich quickly looks in his direction, his expression one of surprise like he had forgotten that the Italian was there in the first place. Lovino points to himself. “I’ll take care of it.”

He takes off towards the elevators before Roderich and Antonio have time to stop him, but he knows they’re following behind him when Antonio grabs onto the back of his suspenders so they can form a chain to weave in and out of the crowd that’s beginning to form. Lovino ignores their distasteful glances when they notice Antonio and then Roderich behind him, and pushes his way to where the lift operator was standing. The man can’t be any older than Lovino, and he obviously looks rattled by the whole ordeal going on around them, but he still jerks an arm out to keep Lovino and the others from entering the elevator.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the lift is closed,” he states, like he’s been repeating it all evening. Lovino’s sure he has been, but he needs to use that lift: his brother’s life depends on it. Without thinking another minute, he shoves the boy back into the elevator before pushing in himself, Antonio and Roderich jumping in after him as they shut the gate.

“I don't care if the lift is closed down or not!” he shouts. “Take us down, God dammit!”

The operator does as he’s told, eyes wide and nodding jerkily as he darts over to the lever and pulls it down so they can begin descending. All four are silent as they go down, watching the decks go past. 

Lovino only realizes that they’ve forgotten the lifebelts on the floor upstairs when it’s far too late for them to turn back. He glances back at Antonio, who’s hovering over him as his eyes flicker between the floors they’re passing, and then over to Roderich, whose eyes are jumping all over the place like he doesn’t know how to settle on anything. Lovino turns back to watch the decks again, reaching his left hand back to grab onto Antonio’s wrist. The touch is comforting: it keeps Lovino grounded.

“We’re gonna find him,” Antonio murmurs. Lovino doesn’t know if he’s talking about Gilbert or Feliciano, but he doesn’t have the heart to ask. “We’re gonna find him in time. I promise.”

The lift jerks a little bit before it seems to slow, and before Lovino has anytime to wonder what’s happening, icy water begins pouring into the elevator car around their ankles.

Lovino screams, half in surprise and half in pain because holy  _ fuck _ the cold water really  _ did  _ feel like knives, backing into Antonio as the car finally stops at the bottom. Roderich gets over his initial surprise at the freezing water temperature before he flings himself past both Antonio and Lovino, ripping the gate open before sloshing into the hallway. The other two force themselves to follow as the lift operator shouts about leaving and he jerks the elevator back up when they empty out into the hallway.

Lovino watches as the lift makes its slow ascent back up the decks, and soon it’s only them down in the E-Deck of the sinking Titanic.

Neither he nor Antonio have any time to ask Roderich were to go next before the Austrian takes off down the hall as fast as the water will let him through, and they follow as best as they can as they start making their way down a hallway labeled “Crew Only” that’s already flooded up to their calves. 

“Gilbert!” Roderich calls, his voice cracking a bit at the effort. “Gilbert, where are you?!” They stop at a fork in their path: the hallway splits into three others. Roderich looks down each one desperately, and Lovino is about to suggest they split up before the Austrian takes the one to the right. Lovino exchanges a look with Antonio, who’s face is still grim, and they start to follow before the lights dim, slowly fading down into blackness. Lovino’s hands fly to clutch at Antonio’s arm as fear jams itself into his chest. 

The air around them grows thicker, the blackness surrounding them pressing closer and closer and Lovino feels each breath he takes get a little shorter. The Titanic is groaning as it sinks, making it sound like a dying creature as it descends into the depths of the Atlantic, and it only makes Lovino’s panic grow. Fingers clenching into Antonio's arm, he doesn't even know he's hyperventilating until Antonio hushes him gently, pressing his lips against his temple.

Lovino feels likes he's there forever, bathed in darkness, but only another few seconds pass before they brighten up again.

“The power’s starting to fail,” Antonio says quietly as he pulls away, and his frown deepens on his face before he glances back over to Lovino, holding onto his hand tighter. “We have to hurry.”

Roderich is still calling for Gilbert, already a few yards ahead of them, before there’s a soft cry in return and he freezes in place. Antonio stiffens.

“Gil?” the Spaniard calls tentatively, and sure enough, there’s another cry echoing against the rushing of the water and the creaking of the ship around them, along with the soft sounds of clanking metal. 

_ “In in here! Roderich! Here!” _

Roderich takes off after the voice like someone is chasing him, dragging himself through the frigid seawater as fast as he possibly can. He recognizes the door the sound of coming from and struggles to throw aside the floating debris in his way, trying to force his way into the room that Gilbert is being kept in, all the while shouting, “I’m here, Gilbert, don’t worry, I’m here!” 

Antonio is instantly by Roderich’s side, trying to get the path clear before they get the door open and the Austrian slips inside. Antonio then reaches out a hand to Lovino to help pull him over to the door. The water is growing deeper by the minute and it’s already up to their knees, and Lovino clutches onto the Spaniard as they push through the door into the adjoining room.

Roderich is already at Gilbert’s side. The ivory-haired man is handcuffed around a pipe, and his ruby red eyes dart up from Roderich’s face when he notices the other two enter. They widen. “What are they doing here?” he asks suddenly, before he shakes his head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. You guys have to find a key for some handcuffs so we can get out of here-- there might be a spare somewhere.”

Roderich nods before wading over to the cabinets, searching through the cupboards with shaking hands. Antonio starts his own search through the drawers at the desk, so Lovino decides to check the next room over. He frowns when he finds only a set of bunk beds with matching side tables inside, but Lovino sloshes through the rising water to check the tables and both of the beds anyway. There’s no key.

“It’s not in here!” he tries to yell, but his voice comes out a trembling squeak because he’s shivering so badly. The water is chilling him to the bone, making it hard to think, but Lovino tries to ignore his rising panic as he makes his way back into the main room through the freezing water, the cold making it harder to move through the increasingly choppier waves.

“All of these keys are brass!” Roderich snaps, a touch of fear coloring his tone, and Antonio grunts in frustration from his place at the desk, throwing an empty drawer across the room to splash into the water nearby Lovino.

“There’s nothing in the drawers,” he says sharply. “If there was even a spare set of keys here to begin with, they’re gone.” He looks up at Gilbert. “We’re running out of time, Gil.”

If he even heard what Antonio just said, the ivory haired man makes no move to acknowledge him. Gilbert is silent, his expression unreadable, watching Roderich desperately ransack the room before he lets his eyes slide close. His voice comes out after an impatient sigh. “Roderich, if there’s no key, there’s no way we can--”

“Stop talking,” Roderich spits indignantly, putting his own frustration into his making his search more frantic. “There’s  _ always  _ a solution. I just have to find it.” 

“Roderich,” Gilbert growls in warning. The brunet doesn’t answer him, checking the cabinet full of keys for a third time with seemingly more desperation than before. Lovino wants to say something, but the cold is making it hard for him to breath, so instead he crosses the room back to Antonio, who pulls him closer in an attempt to keep the both of them warm as Gilbert lets out a hiss of frustration. “Roderich,  _ I’m done for. _ Just make sure you can get yourself out before all the boats--”

_ “I’m not leaving you again!” _ Roderich shouts as he slams his hands on the cabinet in front of him, effectively stopping all attempts of arguing. Gilbert is too stunned to speak, his words dying in his throat and Antonio tightens his hold around Lovino, who can’t stop his shivering. The room is silent for a few moments more before Roderich speaks again, his voice terribly small and his tone defeated. “I can’t leave you again, Gilbert. I’ll never forgive myself if I just left you here after I  _ just  _ got you back.”

A violent shudder from the cold rips through Lovino’s frame and he grips onto Antonio like a lifeline, afraid his legs will go out from underneath him and he’ll go tumbling into the kneehigh seawater. Antonio looks down at him, fear flashing in his eyes before that green gaze darts back up to the other two men in the room.

“We can’t stay here, Roderich. Lovino and I have to find his brother and the others, and standing around in this water is only killing us faster.” Antonio’s voice is clipped, and the harshness from earlier returning to his words causes Lovino’s heart to skip a beat, even though he knows Antonio is only speaking so bluntly because he’s overwhelmed about the situation in front of him. He holds Roderich in his gaze steadily as he continues. “What are you going to do?”

Roderich looks trapped under a magnifying glass, his stance tense and afraid, and he turns slowly, tears welling up in his eyes before he looks towards Gilbert. He slowly wades through the icy water, wincing in pain at the effort before he makes it to Gilbert’s side, reaching for one of the ivory-haired man’s handcuffed hands. “I’m not leaving you for a second time,” he murmurs, pressing his lips into a hard line. “I’m staying here.”

Gilbert looks ready to protest, but Roderich cuts him off again, his voice trembling in the bitter cold. “Nothing you can say can change my mind, Gilbert. Just let me stay.” He reaches up and adjusts Gilbert’s mussed collar, brushing it off before he sighs, leaning his cheek against Gilbert’s shoulder. His voice lowers as his lets his eyes close. “I probably won’t make it on a boat anyway. I’ve got my religion against me.”

The statement makes Gilbert look uncomfortable, and he looks over to Antonio for help in his argument, but Antonio doesn’t make any move to assist him. Lovino wants to say something,  _ anything _ , but he can’t find his voice and is afraid of it coming out as garbled, strangled mess like before so he stares straight ahead. Gilbert looks back down at the Austrian, his eyes dark.

“What about Elizaveta?” he asks carefully, his voice gruff. “What about your company? Your life? You’re going to throw away everything for me?”

Roderich doesn’t even flinch, but he looks saddened by the Hungarian girl’s mention. “Elizaveta has already chosen her own life, and that’s one without me. And I have no future. My grandfather… he’s going to disown me. I’d rather spend my last moments of my life with you than alone on the streets of New York.”

Gilbert says nothing, his scowl deepening but he sighs, lifting up his handcuffed hands up  around the pipe so he can put them around Roderich. “You’re right about one thing. You wouldn’t make it by yourself on the streets, you’re too pissy about everything if it doesn't go your way.” Roderich scoffs but doesn’t argue as he smiles, and Gilbert looks up at Antonio, his eyes hard. “Find Lud: make  _ damn  _ sure that he gets on a lifeboat, no matter what. Tell him... I’m sorry.”

Antonio’s face contorts in grief, but he shuts his eyes.

“I will, Gil. I promise,” he murmurs. His eyes linger on Roderich for another moment longer before he turns away, taking Lovino’s hand as they begin wading through the swirling seawater back into the hallway. It’s already up to their waists, making already difficult wading even harder, and the tilt of the ship caused by the Titanic sinking headfirst is now obvious, making an incline for them to move against as well. They turn to the right where the stairs to get to the next deck are, only to find a churning mess of sea water, a foot of stairway visible, far too deep for the two of them to get through safely.

They were trapped.

“The way out--” Lovino begins, panic rising in his throat, and Antonio shakes his head, pulling him along the opposite way.

“We have to find another way.” Antonio doesn’t look back at his as they plod through the water, his hand so tight around Lovino’s that it hurts, but Lovino doesn’t complain. The crack in his voice was noticeable when he swore his promise to Gilbert, and they tightness hadn’t left since then. As they push past debris to get to the next floor, Lovino knows that Antonio is grieving his for his friends, but he’s managing it so they can get to safety first.

He doesn’t say anything as they turn a corner and he sees tears rolling down the Spaniard’s cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re not going to get out this way,” he says, eyeing the crowd while he speaks. “We need to find another stairwell.”

When Lovino and Antonio crash out from the wall, the door they were behind shattering to pieces from the force of Antonio’s full weight slamming against it using his shoulder, they end up stumbling into the hallway of the D-Deck into a shocked steward standing in a river of third class passengers. Lovino mutters an apology before taking Antonio’s hand and pulling him into the string of passengers heading down the corridor, but they aren’t let off that easily. The steward follows them briskly, even when they weave in and out between passengers to get ahead, yelling after them both.

“Hey, do you understand what you’ve done? That’s White Star Line Property! You’ll have to pay for that you--”

Lovino can’t stand the sound of his voice, especially with the way Antonio looks the way he does at the moment, eyes red-rimmed and distant, so he whips around and sends a glare like death towards the steward. “Shut up!” he snaps, yelling right back at him, and the steward falters in his step, coming to a halt and Lovino leads Antonio away towards where most of the passengers are gathering. No one ahead of them is moving, the flow of people slowing to a clogged mess, and Lovino realizes that they aren’t letting passengers out to get to the boats. He grits his teeth in anger, but he keeps pushing through the crowd so he can find his brother.

He sees the German before his twin, glancing around worriedly like he’s looking for someone, and the realization that that someone was Gilbert feels like a punch to the gut.

“Feliciano!” he shouts, his voice cracking a bit as he waves his arm around to get his attention. Lovino sees Feliciano poke his head up, eyes searching for the source of his name before he spots Lovino and takes off towards him.

“Lovino!” he calls back desperately, having a hard time getting through the tight crowd before Ludwig helps him through, and it’s not before long that he makes it over and throws his arms around Lovino’s shoulders, Italian spilling from his mouth so fast that Lovino almost doesn’t catch it at first.  _ “Tutto bene? Che dire nonno? Tutto sta succedendo così in fretta, non so cosa fare--” _

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Grandpa’s fine too, he’s just worried about you,” Lovino says shakily, still shivering and Feliciano pulls back just in time for the older twin to see for a man with tied back blond hair and dark blue eyes to step up next to Ludwig and Feliciano, spotting Antonio instantly and pulling him into an embrace. It takes Lovino a second to remember he was Francis.

“I’m glad you’re safe,  _ mon ami _ ,” the blond says, relief in his French-accented tone. When he pulls away from the hug he notices the anguished look on Antonio’s face and frowns. “Antonio, what’s wrong?”

“Where’s my brother?” Ludwig asks, trying to keep the alarm in his voice even, but it doesn’t work and he sounds panicked. Lovino feels his voice disappear, his heart leaping into his throat, and Feliciano gives him a troubled look when he sees Lovino’s drenched clothes.

“Lovino, why are your clothes wet?”

Words are out of Lovino’s reach, his throat tightening in grief and confusion. “We--” he swallows and takes a breath, looking between Antonio and Feliciano helplessly. “I don’t--” His chest tightens uncomfortably, and he feels Antonio’s gaze flicker over to him.

“Gilbert and Roderich are dead,” Antonio murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “They… they were trapped down in the E-Deck. Lovino and I-- well-- we were trying to help them escape, but the water was rising too quickly, and there was nothing we could do….” He bites his lip as he trails off, lifting his gaze back up to Francis and Ludwig, who are both staring at him, blue eyes wide. Francis raises a hand to his mouth, mirroring Feliciano’s current expression, but Ludwig is staring straight ahead, his stare disbelieving. Antonio’s expression nearly crumples. “I’m so sorry Ludwig, there was nothing we could do.”

Ludwig’s eyes look to the ground, clear blues clouding in bereavement, but he squeezes them shut as he takes a shallow breath. “It’s not… you aren’t to blame for this.” He sends a glance at Lovino, and the older Vargas twin is pinned to the spot under his gaze, seeing all of the anguish and loss that he’s masking, but feeling nothing abrasive directed toward him. “Neither of you are.”

Antonio furrows his eyebrows in worry. “Are you alright?”

Ludwig shakes his head, and Feliciano leans closer in an attempt to comfort him, resting a head on his shoulder. He stiffens only momentarily before relaxing and leaning into the touch, frowning when someone begins shouting at the top of the steps and Feliciano flinches. Pulling himself up, those eyes turn icy cold. “My feelings aside, mourning my brother and Roderich right now won’t help our situation at all.”

Francis picks up where he stops. “Antonio, they won’t let any of us upstairs to the boats. There are still so many children down here-- we’re doomed unless we get upstairs.”

“They’ve locked us down here,” Feliciano says, fear coloring his words. He notices Lovino’s trembling and he frowns. “ _ Fratello _ , are you alright?”

Lovino was barely paying attention. “W-What?” he asks sharply. Antonio hisses out a curse, pulling off his jacket before throwing it over Lovino’s shoulders and rubbing his arms in an attempt to warm him up. The long overcoat is still wet from a little below Lovino’s waist down, but the top half is warm from Antonio’s lingering body heat and it takes the chill off of Lovino’s skin. He nearly sighs in relief.

“Your lips are blue, Lovi,” Antonio says gently, putting on a weak smile. 

“I’m f-fine,” Lovino tries to say, but it’s hard to talk. He growls to himself before glaring at Antonio. “W-What about you?”

Antonio raises his chin slightly higher, his weak smile stretching into something resembling pride. “I never get cold. Don’t worry about me.”

Lovino snorts. “Bullshit.”

Francis frowns at the both of them before he sighs and reaches for a flask in his coat pocket, holding it out to the two of them.

“Here-- Irish whisky. It’ll take the chill off,” he offers, but Lovino only stares at it, eyes flickering between the flask and the Frenchman cautiously. Before he has time to open his mouth, Antonio snatches the whisky flask and takes an enormous belt out of the container before extending it to him, making a face from the strength of the spirit. Lovino takes it warily from his hands and gulps some down, curling his lip at the burn.

“The Irish are crazy if they can stomach this shit all the time,” he spits weakly after he’s swallowed. He grimaces as the liquid sears the whole way down, shoving the flask back into Francis’ hands. “Why do you even have this garbage? You’re  _ French _ .”

“ _ There’s _ my Lovino,” Antonio smiles, and Lovino flushes when Feliciano laughs a little. Francis pays Lovino’s words no mind, putting away his spirits as he explains that he got his flask from a pretty Irish girl. Lovino rolls his eyes, but when Francis is turned back to the group, Antonio pulls them all together, his face turning serious. 

“We’re not going to get out this way,” he says, eyeing the crowd while he speaks. “We need to find another stairwell.”

“But this is the main stairwell,” Feliciano objects, brown eyes wide. “This is where they  _ told  _ us to go!” Antonio is already shaking his head, his frown deepening.

“We’ll need to find another way, Feli,” he repeats. He takes Lovino’s hand in his right, motioning to the other three with his left. “Come on, follow me!”

They take off down the hallway, pushing against and through the flow of people coming towards them. There are several people in the hallway that catch Lovino’s eye: a woman changing her child’s diaper on a large steamer trunk, an Arabic family trying to read the directional signs at the corner of the hallway with a language dictionary in their shaking fingers, an arguing couple screaming at each other in a language that Lovino doesn’t recognize. He forces himself not to look back at any of them, because he knows he can’t help.

They finally come upon a narrow stairwell and Antonio takes a hard right to start rushing up the steps, and they manage to get up one deck before they are stopped by another gate and another overwhelmed steward along with a handful of steerage men and their families. Antonio forces their group to the front, wrapping his hands around the metal bars of the gate tightly.

“Please, let us through!” Antonio pleads. “Unlock the gate so we can escape!”

“Go back to the main stairwell with everyone else,” he replies, over the roar of the people stuck behind the gate, the steward holding up his hands in an appearingly calm gesture. “It’ll all be sorted out there.”

“ _ Por favor, señor, _ I’m begging you! There are still children down here!” Antonio tugs uselessly on the bars, and the steward just shakes his head fragilely, repeating the same statement over again, showing no end of resistance. Antonio lets his hands drop to his sides, his shoulders completely stiff as he turns away with his eyes shut tightly like he’s trying to calm himself down before he  _ explodes _ .

Whipping around and throwing himself against the gate, his voice bursts from his chest in a flurry of cursing and Spanish, shaking it like he’s trying to tear it from its hinges before he rips himself away, brushing past Lovino and the others before grabbing onto a bench along the corridor. “Francis, Ludwig, help me with this!”

Lovino realizes what he’s doing just in time. “Move aside!” he shouts, pulling his brother and a few other members of steerage out of the way as Antonio, Francis, and Ludwig manage to detach the bolted down bench from the floor and heave it up. “Quickly, move aside!”

He manages to step to the side just as Antonio and Ludwig run up the steps and thrust the bench into the gate, severely damaging it, but it still remains intact. The steward screams in fear and takes off down the hall, leaving the group alone. “Again!” Antonio yells, and they pull back once more, counting down from three before ramming the gate again, this time knocking it clear off it’s hinges. There’s a huge cheer, and Lovino loses track of himself as he’s pushed past by a huge amount of people, nearly swallowed by the crowd and almost falling over before he’s feels Antonio’s strong hands around his upper arm.

“Come on, Lovino,” he rushes, pulling Lovino along and helping him over the wreckage of the broken gate. “We need to hurry.”

“Feliciano-- where--” Lovino croaks. His senses are so overwhelmed after the push of the crowd he’s lost track of his brother, but he’s answered instantly when he feels Feliciano’s gentle touch at his elbow.

“I’m here, I’m okay, Lovino. I’m following you!” he assures, and Lovino swallows before he keeps running after the mass in front of him, struggling to make it to the main deck of the ship so he can get to the boats. They keep moving and moving, up decks and down hallways until suddenly they’re bursting onto the main deck, cringing at the bitter cold air of the night as they reach the crowd of people running along the deck.

Lovino’s blood runs cold. “The davits-- there aren’t any boats left!”

“I’ll look down at the end,” Francis offers, and before anyone has time to tell him any different, he’s already gone.

Antonio’s hand tightens his hold. “There has to be something left up here, come on!” They cross to the other side of the ship, spotting a boat that’s still accepting passengers. Lovino has no clue how it’s even possible, since he sees men getting aboard. It seems like a miracle in itself that it even exists, but he doesn’t complain. Antonio seems to move faster when he sees the boat before coming to a stop near it, turning abruptly to face Ludwig.

“I made a promise to your brother that you’d get on one of those boats, now  _ go _ ,” he states firmly, and Ludwig’s eyes widen. Lovino turns to his own brother, whose eyes are filling up with tears now that he’s witnessing all that’s happening on the main deck, like the reality is finally setting in. Lovino looks quickly at the amount of men aboard the boat and feel his stomach turn, realizing that the only reason this boat is taking off with so few people around it because it’s been bought. He shakes the nasty thought away, realizing it’s the only thing saving Feliciano’s life, and frowns when he sees how resistant his brother looks when he comes to the same realization about the lifeboat’s occupants. 

“Feliciano,” he says, bringing his little brother’s attention towards him by grabbing onto the lifebelt he’s wearing. Feliciano looks at him, eyes dark with hurt and betrayal and telling him that  _ this was unfair, they should not be able to do this, what about the women and children on the other side--!  _ and Lovino swallows, making sure his voice won’t crack as he speaks. “I’m only going to say this once. Get on that fucking boat with your  _ damn  _ German.”

Lovino pushes Feliciano towards the crewmember putting people in the boats without another word, not letting the younger twin get another word in otherwise, and he’s placed roughly aboard. Ludwig follows in suit.

“Only one more!”

Lovino’s eyes widen at the statement, the crewmember looking between him and Antonio expectantly, and Antonio’s hands tighten in his shoulders. Lovino spins around to face him, his heart clenching in his chest as he remembers Roderich and Gilbert.

“I’m not going without you,” he says firmly, and Antonio frowns.

“Get in the boat, Lovino,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, but Lovino shakes his head.

“Lovino, do what he says.”

Lovino nearly leaps out of his skin at his grandfather’s voice, only to see Roma appear at Antonio’s side. His face is grim, and he makes a face when he sees Lovino isn’t wearing a safety belt. He sighs. “What happened to your lifebelt?” He unstraps his own and pulls it off, and Lovino doesn’t have a moment to complain as the safety device is pulled over his head and tied on. “There we go, now get on the boat.”

Lovino looks back to Antonio. “Not without you,” he repeats, and Antonio just shakes his head.

“No, you won’t. Get aboard.”

Roma steps closer to Lovino, his voice low. “There are going to be other boats accepting men. Antonio and I will get on that one. Both of us. Please, just, get aboard.”

Antonio smiles, but Lovino can tell it’s forced. “See? I’ve got my own boat to catch.”

The crewmember seems to grow tired of waiting for a decision, his eyes flickering around quickly like he’s afraid of being caught by someone, so he grabs Lovino by the upper arm and pushes him aboard, and he falls back to land next to his brother and Ludwig. “Antonio--!” He scrambles to a sitting position, watching as the boat starts to jerk into a descent. 

Lovino can’t breathe. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, the only thing louder being the explosions of the signal flares in the sky, their light brightening Antonio’s smiling face for a split second as he watches Lovino escape the sinking ship. Time seems to slow, and Lovino looks around the lifeboat sluggishly, taking in the other passengers. There are a few women with their children, but otherwise the boat is dominated by males, faces dark with fear. Feliciano is gripping onto Ludwig’s hand, his face tucked into the German’s nape as his shoulders shake, and Lovino jerks his head back up to watch Antonio as he feels his throat start to burn as unshed tears start crawling up from his chest. 

He feels like his heart is breaking, eyes flickering between the pulleys straining against the weight of the boat being released, the shots of the rockets bursting in the sky, and the tears of the children with their mothers. The lifeboat jerks a bit suddenly and his hands fly to the edge of the boat to steady himself, a few of the passengers aboard screaming in fright. Lovino tries to take even breaths to prevent himself for hyperventilating and drags his gaze back up to his lover at the rail. Antonio gives him a tight smile that tugs at Lovino’s heart, completely captivated by that gaze but knowing that there was such a small chance of seeing it again. He detects the telltale tremble of Antonio’s hands, the grief in his grandfather’s eyes, and he suddenly he knows-- this is the last time he’ll see either of them alive.

He can’t take it.

Lovino notices the beginning of the A-Deck below the main one and shoots out of his seat,  pushing past other passengers aboard the safety vessel until he’s at the edge of the lifeboat. He hears Antonio call his name in panic and the sound gives him that last push, and using all the strength he possesses, he hurls himself out of the boat and back onto the sinking Titanic, catching himself on the railing of the A-Deck Promenade. He can definitely hear Antonio shouting now, along with the echoing calls of his brother and grandfather, but he doesn’t care. He pulls himself over the railing and falls into a heap on the deck.

He hurries to his feet and turns to his brother quickly, and seeing Feliciano climbing over passengers as well, clenches his teeth and shouts, “Stay on that damn boat, Feliciano!” Feliciano freezes, blinking wide, scared eyes at him but doesn’t try to move any further out of the lifeboat, and opens his mouth to speak, but before Feliciano can say anything, Lovino spins away. He can’t handle hearing from his own brother that he’s essentially sentenced himself to death: abandoning his seat aboard a lifeboat, but he can’t find in his heart to care.

He’d rather die with Antonio than live in a world without him.

He shoves past two men who were asking if he was alright, the tears he was holding back starting to roll down his cheeks as he searches desperately for Antonio in the crowd, running as fast as his legs will take him: past naval officers and other passengers and into the room with the Grand Staircase. He arrives just in time to see Antonio sprint down the stairs and turn to him, and Lovino launches himself into his arms.

Antonio is gasping out things in Spanish that Lovino can’t understand, peppering the Italian all over with kisses as he holds him so tightly Lovino’s afraid he’ll break in half. Antonio finally snaps out of his Spanish into tight English, pulling Lovino’s head into his hands as he presses firm kisses in between his words, accent heavy, shaking him a bit roughly. “Why did you do that--? You’re so stupid, Lovino-- why did you do that--!”

Lovino is trying not to cry too much, tears pouring down his face as he just lets Antonio shake him, knowing everything he was saying was right. He has no excuses for what he’s just done, but he can’t do anything to change it, nor would he want to. The dark haired Spaniard finally stops his shaking and pulls away long enough to wait for an answer, and Lovino reaches up and gently pulls his thumb across Antonio’s cheek, his voice tight as those vibrant green eyes bore into his own. “If you jump, I jump, remember?”

Antonio looks at him,  _ really  _ looks at him for a moment before he smiles and he lets out a jittery laugh, crushing Lovino in another embrace.  _ “Sí, sí, mi corazón, sí.”  _

Soon the words are pouring out of Lovino before he can stop them, and he buries his face into Antonio’s shoulder, sobs breaking loose from his chest and he grips onto the back of the Spaniard’s shirt and doesn’t let go. “I-- I couldn’t do it, Antonio, I just couldn’t leave you here--”

Antonio hushes him soothingly, petting the back of Lovino’s hair gently. “I know you couldn’t. It’s alright. Shhh, it’s okay.” He doesn’t let go either, pressing a kiss to Lovino’s temple as he lets him cry into his shoulder, holding him close. “I couldn’t leave you either. I just… I wanted to make sure you’d be safe….”

Lovino jerks himself away, scowling through his tears as he furiously scrubs them away with the heel of his hand. “I’m safe when I’m with  _ you _ , idiot,” he snaps weakly, but he still falls back into Antonio’s embrace, the Spaniard pulling his head back into the crook of his neck. Lovino tries to fight back against his own trembling, squeezing his eyes shut to try and get lost in the feeling of Antonio stroking his hair, trying to forget the miniscule amount of time they had left together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ill make a guess now, and im thinking there's gonna be three more chapters to this, tops. we're running fast to the end, so i'm gonna make this my #1 priority and probably upload those in the next week or two!! the next chapter will most likely be the one i change the archive warnings too, so be warned -- there's a lot planned that still needs to happen!! ;))
> 
> thank you for reading, and stay tuned!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It will only be for a short time, Lovino, I promise. I’ll always come back to you, no matter what may or may not happen.” His smile becomes a little more strained. “But you have to trust me. Promise me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is it. the chapter where is All Goes Down. this is ALSO the second to last chapter, with the next one being the last. i figure i owe it to you guys for having such an inconsistent update schedule that i update pretty quickly since the last time hahaha, so thank you for putting up with it!! ill also be posting the last chapter sometime really soon, so look out for it then. 
> 
> until then, here's the next chapter!

Even though they stay silent, the sounds of the disaster continue in a cacophony of discord around them: passengers with quick steps hurrying inside and outside the ship, the groans of the hull descending into the ocean slowly growing in volume as more of the ship goes under the icy waves. The commotion outside the ship is just enough to be considered a panic, but he knows the worst is only yet to come.

“Lovino,” Antonio’s voice is tinged with alarm, but he’s trying to keep it hidden underneath a blanket of calm. “We can’t stay here-- we need to get to the back of the ship.” He pulls Lovino away to look at him carefully. Lovino nods and starts moving to get back to the main deck outside, but Antonio doesn’t seem to be finished as he holds him back. He hesitates only momentarily, his eyes flickering to the ground as he searches for the correct words, but he looks back up just as quickly as they leave, his eyes steely calm. “If we’re going to both survive this, I’ll need you to trust me. That means if I tell you to do something, you’ll do it. If I tell you to swim: swim. If I tell you to let go of my hand, you let go. If... I say we have to separate, you let us separate.” Lovino feels like his mouth is dry when Antonio’s eyes harden. “Do you understand?”

Lovino can’t help but frown, and he doesn’t nod. Something is unsettling about the fact that Antonio mentioned being separated, and he doesn’t like the dread that seeps into his bones at the thought. Antonio notices his doubt and sighs, but smiles all the same.

“It will only be for a short time, Lovino, I promise. I’ll always come back to you, no matter what may or may not happen.” His smile becomes a little more strained. “But you  _ have  _ to trust me. Promise me.”

Lovino is slow to respond. “I  _ do  _ trust you,” he argues, biting his lip. “I just….” He looks to the ground. He does trust Antonio -- he isn’t lying; just something is bothering him about the way the air around the Spaniard had changed when he had spoken moments ago. It seemed so much  _ darker,  _ reminding Lovino of the way he acted back when they were trying to unsuccessfully free Gilbert and Roderich, and it  _ scares  _ him. It’s not that he’s afraid Antonio will do something to  _ him,  _ he realizes as he peeks at their interlocked hands, his blood running cold. 

He’s afraid of what Antonio will do to  _ himself _ . 

Lovino inhales deeply when he realizes the seconds are just ticking away, pinned under the Spaniard’s suffocating stare and waiting for the ship to plunge deep into the watery abyss, so he tries to push all of his fears deep into the back of his mind before returning to Antonio’s gaze. 

“I promise,” he murmurs. Antonio’s smile widens in relief, and a little of that fear in Lovino’s heart ebbs away when Antonio presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, but another type of fear replaces it as the Titanic groans loudly, the sound of rushing water beginning to be heard from below the deck they were standing in. Lovino swallows, and Antonio takes him by the hand.

“We have to go, Lovino,  _ now, _ ” Antonio says, eyes darting around the room as the panic outside the ship starts to filter inside. Lovino nods and they take off up the steps, Antonio pushing past a few groups of men clustered together near the door and back out onto the deck. 

Lovino is stunned into silence when he sees the chaos that’s begun since he left the deck last. The water rising faster than he had realized, with the bow completely submerged and the rest following, passengers and crewmembers in a panicked rush to get spare lifeboats in motion to save more lives. He’s not left watching long, however, because Antonio jerks Lovino by the arm; back away from the surging water, and towards the back of the Titanic.

There’s a wave of people heading in directions all over, up and down against the growing incline, yelling and screaming in a rush when they start realizing there’s little left in the way of lifeboats but desperately needing to get on one of the few left. Lovino keeps up with Antonio’s incessant pulling, but he still feels completely off put by the amount of people in the chaos building below them. Lovino was never good with people, and even though he considers all of the circumstances behind them he still feels his knees weaken at the prospect of running through a crowd that big.

Gazing at Antonio’s back, he swallows, pushing past smaller groupings here and there, his nerves strengthened by the sound of Antonio’s voice in front of him, leading him ahead, reassuring him with a strong hand. They quickly scale down a set of stairs and push into the crowd of rushing people without any break.

Lovino’s air seems to immediately be choked off when they force themselves into the rush, the anxiety and terror from the people around him nearly suffocating to be in. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries his best to keep up with the movement around him, his heartbeat deafening in his ears, trying to ignore the pushing and shoving and instead trying to only focus on Antonio.

He suffers an extremely forceful shove from a man nearly twice his size that almost knocks him over, but even though he manages to stay upright the force rips his hand from Antonio’s. Lovino feels his throat tighten and he lets out a strangled cry of fear as his lifeline is torn away from him, trying to search for the Spaniard but he’s already lost in the crowd. “Antonio--!” The crowd is taller than him-- he can’t see above it and it’s stronger than he is, and he feels himself being dragged away by the frenzy’s current. There’s a ringing in his ears that seemed to grow in volume along with Lovino’s rising hysteria, and he feels his legs weakening as the crowd begins to overwhelm him.

“Antonio!” he wails again, and he swears he can hear Antonio’s voice calling to him but the crowd around him is so loud he can barely make it out. He tries again. “Fuck, Anton--!”

Someone hurtles past Lovino and it knocks him aside, cutting off his call and sending him crashing to the ground. He tries to scramble to his feet, but he ends up being kicked around since no one is stopping to help him up, so he gives up. He instinctively tucks his head under his arms to save it from being kicked or stepped on any further, pulling his knees to his chest, but other than that he can’t find the strength to break through the crippling terror that has gripped him with the stampede surrounding him and no end in sight. He’s sucking down terrified gulps of air that are beginning to make him feel lightheaded, his brain buzzing as thoughts of all the ways he can die by being trampled by this crowd before he even has time to drown begin to flash. 

He remembers how cold the water felt when he was just wading through it down in the E-Deck earlier that night and imagines himself being completely submerged, but find he can’t. He decides that he’d prefer being trampled.

Before he can think any more about his death, he’s saved. Lovino feels hands tucking under his arms, pulling him off the ground and to his feet, steadying him by placing a hand at his waist so he can stand on his own. His first thought is Antonio, but deep voice that starts speaking to him doesn’t belong to the Spaniard. It’s one that alarms him because he can’t remember it ever being so soothing -- far too memories of it being clipped and sharp have tainted it.

It’s his grandfather who’s the one that’s come to his rescue.

“Come on, Lovino,” Roma murmurs gently, but firmly as Lovino finds his sense of balance. “You’re okay. That’s it, let’s get you back to Fernández.”

“G-Grandpa? What--” Lovino’s head is still a mess of overstimulation, so he holds tightly onto his grandfather’s hold as they push through the crowd. He tries to see if he recognizes any of the passengers around him in an attempt to find Antonio, but he quickly realizes it’s useless. 

“Just a few more steps, I see him at the edge of the crowd,” Roma explains. He picks up his stride just enough to make it through the rest of the crowd, and as they burst from the worst of the pack Lovino feels air flood his lungs in relief as he’s freed from the dense pressure surrounding him from the hoard of madness and he sees Antonio.

He’s still in a more crowded part of the sinking ship, but it’s not as heavily occupied but panicking guests, tucked in a corner next to a set of stairs away from everyone else. The Spaniard’s eyes are wide with terror and his face is extremely pale, seemingly like Antonio was just as scared as Lovino was about getting swept away from the crowd. The fear alleviates from his face when he sees Lovino with Roma, and he quickly swoops forward to scoop the young Italian from his grandfather’s arms, repeating apologies into his hair.

Lovino holds him tightly and doesn't speak until he knows he can find words. He tries to squirm around in Antonio’s bone crushing hug but it’s too tight to move very much, his head tucked in the crook of Lovino’s neck. “It’s okay, I’m okay, calm down,” he consoles, because he can feel Antonio shaking, and he bites his lip. “Grandpa got me before anything bad could happen.” He turns back to eye Roma warily. “How did you…?”

Roma gives a half-hearted smile at Lovino’s hesitation, crossing his arms. Instead of appearing haughty, the way he’s standing looks more like he’s insecure or uncomfortable, which is something that Lovino doesn’t really understand. Roma was bold and unapologetic; his crossed arms and flickering eyes seems completely unnatural and bizarre, and it only makes Lovino more aware of the deadly situation the Titanic was suffering.

He snaps out of his thoughts when Augustus begins to speak, pressing his lips into a flat line.

“You may be your own man, Lovino, but you’re still my grandson. I’m only looking out for you to make sure you’re safe,” Roma begins, his voice only faintly tight. Lovino, not satisfied with this answer, doesn’t break his stare, completely silent. Roma sighs, frowning as he turns his sight on the ground. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ve said and done a lot of things by just stating things like, ‘because I’m your grandfather’, or ‘it’s for the best’. You’re very easy to read, did you know that?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not asking you to forgive me for what I’ve done all these years. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing, but I now know that I was only holding you back. Just know… I want to apologize.”

Lovino’s confusion around the whole situation seems to heighten. Roma was actually apologizing to him? He’s about to snap a quick retort, for he doesn’t know any other way to respond, when the sounds of gunshots ripple into the open air. Most passengers scream and duck in response, Lovino included, but Antonio shoots up, hugging Lovino closer. “What the fuck was that?” Lovino asks sharply, noticing Roma and Antonio are both pale. “Who’s shooting?”

There’s one more shot from the handgun followed by more wails from passengers, and Lovino flinches again. 

“The crowd is getting too panicked. Things are starting to fall apart,” Antonio whispers, deadly quiet. He glances back to Roma, his voice hardening. “We need to stay on this boat for as long as possible.” Roma nods, glancing at the back of the ship.

“Then go,” he says, turning away. “You better hurry before the tilt of the deck gets too steep. You won’t be able to climb it and you’ll just end up sliding back down.”

The words strike a nerve, and Lovino bites back a scathing remark for something less abrasive. 

“What about you?” is what he decides on, staring hard at Roma’s head to get him to return his gaze. He doesn’t. As the seconds tick by, his heart begins flickering in anxiety, hammering in his chest when his grandfather breaths out a long breath, but still refuses to say anything. As the pause goes on and on, Lovino begins to realize he knows exactly what Roma is going to say. Something is telling him he doesn’t want to hear it. 

“What about me?” is what Augustus Vargas finally settles on, and Lovino scowls deeply at the evasive answer, narrowing his eyes and baring his teeth.

“Don’t give me that! You know  _ exactly  _ what the fuck I’m talking about!” he snarls back. Roma returns his gaze evenly. Antonio murmurs something about calming down, his hands fluttering to his shoulders, but Lovino ignores him, pushing the Spaniard away to square his shoulders at his grandfather. “Answer me!”

Roma’s gaze hardens, but his expression doesn’t change. “Don’t be foolish, Lovino. I’m old and I’ve lived my life. You’re young: you need to make it through this.”

Lovino feels like his heart is being squeezed, and he can’t for the life of him figure out why. “No, you’re coming with us!” he finds himself saying, words coming out of his mouth before he can stop them. He feels his expression crumple when Roma gives him a strained smile, shaking his head.

“Lovino,” he says gently. “I would try to survive if I could, but I know the amount of people getting off this boat and surviving are next to none. That slim margin of passengers doesn’t include myself, and I know it.” He eyes Antonio for a fraction of a second. “If it were another time, in another universe, I would be fighting tooth and nail to make sure  _ you  _ are one of those few people, but I don’t have to. Both my grandsons have found people that they want to protect, along with people that want to protect them.” He closes his eyes. “My duty as a grandfather is complete. All I need to do now is try and help as many other lives as I can.”

Antonio’s expression flickers between emotions too fast Lovino doesn’t have time to process them, all of them a result of the eldest Vargas’ intentional, albeit indirect, mention of his approval. The Spaniard chooses his words carefully as he moves onward. “Roma-- no.” He stops himself and backtracks.  _ “Augustus-- _ ”

“Don’t get cocky and start calling me by my first name quite yet, Fernández.” Roma snaps breezily, raising his chin higher when Antonio’s voice dissolves in his throat and his mouth parts in surprise. “You still need to prove how you’re going to get Lovino off this ship in one piece, considering it’s  _ your  _ fault that he’s still here in the first place.”

Lovino bristles again, growling, “Don’t be like that.”

Roma’s eyes are piercing. “But I’m right, am I not?” 

Lovino has to struggle against rolling his eyes at the statement, but he forces himself not to move. “You’re making it sound like it’s his fault that I got off the lifeboat. It isn’t,” he snarls. Lovino grabs Antonio’s hand when he feels his knees begins to quiver under his grandfather’s gaze. “ _ I’m  _ the only one to blame for that.  _ Me _ , not him. It was my decision, and mine alone. Leave him alone.”

Roma lowers his gaze, breathing out slowly, but it snaps right back up to the look out over the crowd warily as another shot rings out into the empty night. His words sound distracted, like he’s forcing himself to say them even if he disagrees. “You’re right, Lovino, but there’s no time for us to argue. You two need to go.  _ Now _ .”

Lovino finally notices the crowd and realizes it's only gotten worse since they’ve pulled off to the side, a seemingly endless amount of passengers pouring up from the sinking part of the vessel and back towards the back end, trying to save themselves from the frigid water pooling up from beneath them. His throat goes dry.

“Right,” Antonio says for the both of them, pulling Lovino close to him so they can step back into the fray to head back up the steps. He keeps the younger Italian’s back pulled close to his chest, hands on both of his shoulders, and he herds him over to the river of passengers. Lovino gives his grandfather a miserable look, and Roma returns it with another weak smile.

A startling revelation makes Lovino think that he can’t remember a time where his grandfather has smiled so much. It makes his heart ache.

“Survive,” Roma says. “Survive for Feliciano.”

There’s a beat where everything seems to freeze: Antonio’s hands clenching tightly around Lovino’s shoulders, the sound of the crowd seems to dim and Lovino is now painfully aware that the only other constant that’s been there with him his  _ whole  _ life, save his brother, is about to be lost forever. He wonders if this how Antonio felt, seemingly hours ago, when he had to abandon two of his best friends in order to survive himself, and he feels something welling up in his eyes as his face crumples in grief. 

_ Do you love your grandfather, Lovino? _

This simple question Antonio had asked only a day before now rung in his mind over and over, and when it had first been asked, Lovino hadn’t been able to give him an answer. This time, he had one.

He did.

“Okay, Grandpa,” Lovino whispers, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

It’s the last thing he says to him as Antonio cuts into the crowd, the Spaniard swinging him onto the stairs to keep moving forward, his grandfather’s face lost to the many faces of the mob. His heart feels heavy, his limbs almost sluggish, but he keeps climbing stairs, Antonio’s warm presence behind him and his promise burning deep in his soul, even as the tears keep coming with no sign of stopping.

The crowd around him is more tightly packed than when the one they were in when he was nearly trampled, and the air seems harder to choke down at first. It’s a little easier when Antonio’s hands find themselves on his hips, his close proximity making Lovino feel safer than when they had just been holding hands. They fight through the crowd together as one, past the pushing and shoving and screaming as they fight for the back of the ship.

The next thing he realizes it that he’s at the edge of the Deck A aft rail, and Antonio is glancing around as they are stopped. The stairs to go to the deck below are at a standstill, too many people clawing and fighting for a way down that they’re completely out of use. He hisses out a sigh before turning Lovino around to face him, eyes wide and pleading.

“I’ll lift you over, okay! We’ll have to jump down to the next deck, but then it’ll be a straight shot back to the furthermost rail. Remember it? It’s where we first met!” Lovino nods and before he has time to prepare, Antonio’s hands are already under his arms and he’s being helped over the railing, and he takes a quick look down when he’s on the opposite side and drops the foot and half down to get onto a landing. He waits until Antonio drops down beside him before they jump off the landing and back onto the Bridge Deck.

Lovino lands hand on his feet, and due to the steepening incline of the sinking ship, he drops down to his knees, but Antonio scoops him back up instantly and starts pulling him along, arm around his waist.

“Are you alright?” he asks hurriedly, and Lovino can’t find his voice because his throat has swelled shut in panic and fear, so he nods as they briskly keep moving. The Spaniard’s voice is still so hard to hear, with the monumental crash of noise around him. There are so many screams that are pouring into his skull: he’s never felt so scared before in his entire life. Antonio looks down at him when he doesn’t receive an answer verbally, and his face falls even more when he sees the state Lovino is in.

“I’m so sorry, Lovino,” is all he says. “I’m so sorry.”

They make it up another set of stairs, past a group of people gathered around a preacher who’s quoting passages from the book of Revelation, speaking about the end of days, and Lovino can’t help but feel even more lost and hopeless about the Titanic’s fate. Antonio mutters a few biting remarks in Spanish under his breath at the sight, pulling Lovino along the deepening incline of the ship before he grabs onto the stern rail -- the exact place that the two of them had met only days prior.

It feels like an entire lifetime ago.

Antonio pulls the two of them closer, wrapping an arm around the railing and pulling Lovino closer to him, the latter gripping around Antonio’s chest tightly as he feels the groans of the ship underneath his feet. The stern is steadily rising, the propellers nearly twenty feet above the water and only rising faster and faster, and Lovino feels sick when he sees how high in the air they are. Thirty feet, forty feet, fifty feet….

The lights continue to flicker around them and Lovino tucks his face into Antonio’s nape, holding him tighter and tighter, and his lover’s hold around his waist just grows tighter as the ship tilts further. People are sliding down the deck when the loose their balance, screaming the entire way down as they skate down into the water, but the others who are holding on tightly are crying and sobbing as they listen to the preacher continue his talk.

Lovino doesn’t know how he can take all of this destruction and death. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to force his breaths to become even with Antonio’s, trying to get the tears falling from his eyes to stop, and he tries to pretend that Antonio and he are the only people on the sinking vessel.

“I love you, Antonio,” he mumbles tightly against the Spaniard’s collarbone, and the words cause the man to jump a little, like they startle him.

“Don’t do that,” Antonio chastises instantly, but his voice is trembling. “Don’t say goodbye to me yet. You’re gonna make it through this, I swear it on my life.” He presses a firm kiss on Lovino’s forehead and pulls Lovino closer to him. “I promise.”

Lovino’s next thoughts are cut short when the power goes out completely and the ship is plunged into darkness. There are a few screams of surprise and fear, but Lovino’s vision slowly returns when the light of the full moon behind them illuminates the wreckage and chaos beneath their feet. People are clinging onto dear life, but some of them still fall and glide down into the water. Other than those few people, a strange and unsettling sort of silence has gripped the people left aboard the sinking vessel.

Then the silence is split with a tremendous crack.

The strain of the sinking hull and the rising stern becomes too much for the doomed Titanic, and it splits right across its midsection with another few earsplitting snaps of splintering wood and metal. The screams of people falling into the giant gaping hole echo up to where Lovino and Antonio are gripping at the stern, and Antonio sandwiches Lovino between himself and the railing, tightening his hold as he prepares for the hull to detach. 

There’s more cracking, but almost as quickly as it began, the sounds stop and they begin to fall. Lovino’s heart rises into his throat and a huge eruption of screams comes out from the plummeting stern, and he can barely keep in his own voice before they crash back into the sea, creating a huge spray of ocean when the hull smashes into the water.

Everything grows still. Lovino fights against his heart hammering in his chest, and his legs have turned to jelly after falling down so far and so fast so suddenly, but when Antonio pulls away to look behind them he tries to stand up straighter. The stern has righted itself, and its managing to stay afloat without it’s second half, and for a moment, it seems like everyone will be okay.

“We’re saved!” A few people call up, and Lovino wonders for a moment on whether or not it’s actually true. Antonio shakes his head at the voices, his face grim, and Lovino’s hope deflates in his chest.

The stern starts its ascent once again, this time faster than before, being pulled down by the submerged bow that’s still attached, and Antonio’s face seems to pale even more.

“We need to get on the other side of the railing!” he orders, and he pulls away from Lovino to clamber over to the other side. He turns, his face desperate as he reaches out for Lovino’s hand. “Come on, I’ll pull you over! Hurry!”

Lovino is too scared to move. He keeps his stare right on Antonio, hazel eyes wide and terrified as his hands grip on the railing, frozen in place by fear. Antonio looks down at him, his face intense yet earnest, his eyes reflecting Lovino’s own fear to let him know that it was okay, he was scared too. This isn’t the first time that Antonio’s had to help Lovino up from dangling before, and it was time for him to do it again. “I promise, Lovino. I won’t let go!”

Words ringing in his ears, his memories flashing him back to a night where he was lost and afraid, hanging above frigid water and churning propellers with no one to help except a wonderfully annoying man with a wide smile and gentle eyes, Lovino nods.

“I know you won’t,” is what he says, and Antonio’s eyes soften as a relieved smile pulls at his lips. Lovino reaches up a trembling hand and it’s instantly enveloped in Antonio’s, his lover pulling him up and over the rail just as the deck straightens up and the stern of the Titanic is floating at a ninety-degree angle, bobbing like a cork. Antonio tucks the Italian under his arm and they lay against the grate of the railing, puffs of air blowing out from their lips.

The water beneath them is black and cold, a dark and murky abyss nearly fifteen stories beneath them. The people who were gripping onto the rail beside Lovino and Antonio are losing their grip in a combination of the raw chill and fright, and they plunge into the waters with a scream. Some make a sickening sounding impact with other parts of the still exposed ship, and it makes Lovino flinch and look away. 

The stern gives a bit a groan before starting its final descent into the sea, and Lovino’s heart gives a little bit and he sucks in a shaky gasp.

“This is it, Lovino!” Antonio says, lacing their fingers together and speaking fast. “Take a deep breath right before we hit the water and hold it. The ship is gonna try and drag us down with it, so you’re gonna have to fight against it, okay! Keep swimming for the surface and keep kicking! Don’t let go of my hand. Trust me, we’re gonna make it through this!.”

The churning water beneath them is growing closer and closer, and Lovino nods. “I trust you!” he says, wholefully and truly, and when the water is only a foot beneath them Antonio stands up, pulling Lovino up along with him.

_ “Now!” _

Lovino sucks in the biggest breath he can, and says goodbye to the last of the Titanic as he’s immersed in ice-cold ocean waves.

 

The first thing that comes to Lovino’s mind when he’s completely underwater is that, again, Antonio was right: it really did feel like he was being stabbed by the bitter cold all around him. He can’t feel any of his limbs as he feels himself being dragged down into the stinging darkness, but he does what Antonio told him, and he keeps kicking, trying to keep his hold on his lover’s hand as best as he can, his lungs screaming and brain sharp.

He breaks the surface of the water into a swarm of frenzied people screaming for the lifeboats, whitewater all around him, and he instantly panics when Antonio doesn’t emerge beside him. 

He had let go of his hand.

“Antonio!” His voice cracks in exertion, whipping his head around in terror when he doesn’t receive an answer, his joints and limbs wailing in pain. “Antonio!”

The only sounds that greet him are the strangled cries of more leftover passengers, and his heart instantly shatters when no one even looks his way, none of the faces in the crowd even resembling the missing Spaniard.

No. 

“Antonio!” 

(The ship dragged him down.)

_ No. _

“ _ Fuck _ , Antonio!” 

(He wasn’t wearing a lifebelt.)

_ No, no, no, no, no, no, no--! _

(He’s dead.)

Lovino can’t even call out again, his voice tightens in pure grief as tears spring to his eyes and the beginning or another word just comes out as a broken sob, his body shuddering in the fatal temperature of the water. Everything he had done was for nothing: Antonio was gone, and he had nothing left. Did he really think that they could both make it?  _ Stupid. _ He lets his eyes close, shoulders shaking in misery and cold, and considers letting it all go.

_ Survive. _

Lovino opens his eyes, gazing up at the night sky when he hears a voice at the back of his head. No, he couldn’t let it all go. What about Feliciano? He would be crushed if neither he nor Roma made it through this, and even if he  _ did  _ have that lunk of a German with him, he wouldn’t be the same again.

_ Survive for Feliciano. _

Lovino struggles against his protesting limbs and tries to find his feet to swim away from the crowd, knowing that he needed to find something to float on: he needed to he out of the water. When his brain is repeating his agony over and over again, he kicks as hard as he can and swims away from the cacophony of screams and cries from the passengers, over to debris from the ship that lay floating around them.

His hopes slowly flatten underneath the weight of his terror when he finds so much of it too small to hold his weight, and he’s afraid that he’s taking too long to find something to use. He can’t swim very fast: not with his lifebelt restricting his movement and the chill of the water numbing his arms and legs. He labors past a crewmember blowing incessantly on a whistle, calling out to the lifeboats for help, the squeal echoing across the empty waves. Lovino knows the boats won’t come back while there are still so many people stuck in the water.

The thought makes his stomach churn is discomfort.

Suddenly, he spots something bobbing ahead of him, and in a last ditch effort he pushes himself the rest of the way to meet his salvation. He thanks every being in heaven when he finds a broken piece of wooden paneling, just large enough to hold him if he lays across it.

But would it hold his weight?

Lovino throws his arms up and tries his best to pull himself up, and the wood gives a little under the weight put on it, but it holds. The Italian clambers on the rest of the way, panting as the last of the adrenaline leaves his body and exhaustion and grief take over, and he collapses, his cheek pressing against against the drifting piece of wood.

The cries from the other doomed victims are more distant here, and Lovino feels like he’s the last man alive in the entire world. He feels like crying, but his body is shuddering too much that he can’t even get out a single sound. His body feels like it shutting down: Lovino thinks that he’s going to die before the lifeboats even get to them. He can’t feel any of his body, Antonio’s long coat feeling more like a weight on his shoulders than anything that’s supposed to feel warm. Lovino flinches.

Antonio.

“Y-You lied,” he rasps out, gazing out at the water, too tired to move any further. It’s hard to speak, his face and throat is raw from the icy air and every one of his words are trembling violently. “You p-promised me you wouldn’t let go, you bastard.” He bites his lip. “W-Why did you let go?”

He breaks down in grief without another word, feeling more alone than he ever had, floating alone on a sea on a scrap of wood with no one else to turn to.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re right,” he murmurs. “It’s not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im going to save all my commentary for the end of the chapter so you guys can read it first lmao
> 
> without further ado, here is the final chapter. please enjoy!

Lovino feels like he’s floating alone for hours, the terrified screams from other passengers fading out one by one until there’s only eerie silence surrounding him. This is it, he thinks. He’s dying. There’s no one else left but him stuck out in these freezing waters, and he’s the last one left alive, but he was going to die. His heartbeat feels like it’s working too hard trying to pump blood through his numb body, his body so cold that he can’t even shiver anymore. It’s just him and the stars, lying in a blanket of frigid loneliness, and then faintly, he thinks he hears the call of a man. He struggles to open his eyes to see if he wasn’t dreaming and in fact, there was a real lifeboat coming to rescue him, but everything beyond his makeshift raft is too blurry to see clearly. The brunet squints hard to look out across the water, and sure enough, there’s a boat in the distance, floating out looking for people who are out at sea.

“ _Help--_ ” he croaks, his voice much too quiet to be heard. _“Please, help.”_

The light from the lifeboat seems to move farther away.

His mind fights to stay sharp. The whistle. Lovino needed the whistle! He blinks the weariness from his eyes and fights against his numb limbs before throwing himself back into the water, weakly paddling over to the former naval officer with the object he needed at his lips. He’s long dead, his face an unsettling shade of blue, but Lovino doesn’t hesitate to pull the piece of metal from the man’s lips and blow as hard as he can into it.

The light turns back around at the sound, and as the boat grows closer, Lovino’s feeling of safety grows bigger.

Two of the officers aboard the lifeboat pull him aboard and wrap blankets around him, three other waterlogged passengers aboard as well, and Lovino struggles to keep his eyes open as he looks all of them over.

None of them are Antonio.

He crumples, any strength in his limbs leaving him when he realizes he’s truly alone and Antonio was really gone, and the officers help him over to sit next to a blonde girl who looks no older than Lovino himself. She looks a little better off than Lovino feels, because she allows him to lean on his shoulder, and even wraps part of her blanket around his shoulders.

The warmth sinks into Lovino’s bones like sun on his cheeks, and he shudders out another breath of relief, fading fast as the girl hums a song to him with a quaking and raspy voice, the two of them sharing whatever was left of their body heat with each other.

The lifeboat only picks up two other passengers, two of which Lovino can’t recognize, and after that the lifeboat returns to the other grouping of lifeboats bobbing of the seat, waiting for rescue. Most wait in silence, a few still weeping for what was lost, but Lovino can’t find it in his heart to cry anymore.

He feels empty, like someone took everything in his heart and gave it all away. He barely speaks to any others aboard the lifeboat that rescued him, save the girl who he sat next to. She first introduces herself in Dutch, before she finds out Lovino can speak English and she quickly restates herself. Emma, as she calls herself, came from a small town in Belgium with her brothers. She fails to say anything more about what happened to said brothers, but Lovino knows better than to ask.

Their conversation is interrupted when he feels something digging into his side, and he pauses to see what it is before he freezes. In the inner pocket of the long coat he’s wearing is a leather-bound portfolio. Emma doesn’t ask what it is when she sees the expression on Lovino’s face when he first sees it, putting a gentle hand on his own when tears begin to well up in his eyes.

He doesn’t open it, and instead holds it tightly to his chest.

Two hours later, as the sun is just starting to let the fair rays of morning reach out across the sea, a ship finally arrives on the horizon. People around Lovino stand and cheer, waving arms and hands as they wait for rescue, Emma is whispering something that sounds like a prayer, but Lovino just lays there, motionless. He feels nothing. He waits until it’s his lifeboats turn to board the saving vessel, reading the words _RMS Carpathia_ on the side of the ship, and as soon as he climbs aboard he’s covered by another blanket and handed a cup of tea.

He clenches the cup in his fingers, relishing the warmth, but he doesn’t take a sip.

He needs to find Feliciano.

Lovino moves slowly, dragging his gaze across each and every person he walks by. Faces, young and old, none of them familiar, streaming with tears and darkened with loss and sorrow, worn down by the last of the night’s events. He blinks slowly, dragging his aching limbs across the deck as he searches for his twin.

And then he sees him. Laying against his German’s shoulder, cocooned in covers and sleepless circles under his eyes, he stares off at the distant sky. Lovino feels something warmer in his chest, and Feliciano’s eyes drag over towards him before he sees him. Those brown eyes widen, his head lifting off of Ludwig’s shoulder and his mouth form around a few words that Lovino doesn’t catch. He steps closer.

Feliciano struggles to stand, and the German at his side helps him up, Lovino already feeling like his feet are carrying him faster than he’s ever traveled before. They crash into each other’s arms, Lovino’s tea forgotten and smashing to the floor, Feliciano crying Italian into his shoulder as they just hold onto one another more tightly than Lovino has ever held onto his brother before, burying his face in his nape.

After a few moments of incomprehensible blabber, Feliciano finally pulls away, his eyes large with emotion that Lovino doesn’t have time to sort through. “I thought I lost you,” he whispers. He looks behind Lovino quickly, like he’s looking for someone, before his face blanches. “What about…?”

Lovino feels the blood drain from his face and he looks down, unspeaking as he shakes his head. Feliciano, for once in his life, doesn’t say anything more, and pulls Lovino back into his tight embrace when the seconds tick by, the two of them sinking to the ground, half in relief and the other half in sorrow.

“You’re all I have left now,” Lovino says, his voice barely above a whisper. Feliciano nods slowly, rubbing Lovino’s back in a comforting gesture, his voice soft.

“I’m sorry, Lovino.”

Eventually, Lovino falls asleep in Feliciano’s lap with his arms around Antonio’s portfolio, his brother pulling his fingers through his hair gently, but he doesn’t dream. He awakes later to see the sun high in the sky, many people still cluttered around the deck, but most of the commotion has calmed down. Feliciano is humming a slow and soft tune that makes Lovino think of home: a calmer and soothing version of something their grandfather would whistle back around the house when he was cleaning up.

Lovino shuts his eyes to fight back against the wave of loss that washes over him again, curling into himself tightly, before he is reminded of the portfolio in his hands. He sits up, ignoring Feliciano’s voice of concern, looking at the leather-bound valise in his hold, and with shaking fingers, reaches for the zipper that’s keeping it closed. The sound of the zipper bites its way through the air as he pulls the tab along, and when he flips open the top he’s greeted with a picture of his own face.

It’s the drawing that Antonio had done of him the night previous. The conté hasn’t smeared after being completely submerged in seawater, but the paper is still extremely damp. Feliciano takes a breath beside him, but Lovino gently picks up the paper and tries to see what’s underneath. The papers miraculously don’t stick together, but what he sees next still makes Lovino’s heart fall in disappointment. Many of the charcoal or graphite drawings are washed out, only faint remnants of the original pieces still there, and none of them have the face that Lovino is looking for.

He feels his expression sink, carefully paging through the damp portfolio, and eventually he reaches the end. There are a few sketches here he hasn’t seen: ones of his own face in ink that has blotted and blurred, but they still seem unfinished. Lovino can’t recall when the Spaniard had done them, and understands instantly they were done without reference. He feels emotion crawling up his throat, but he forces himself to smile, letting out a sob.

“All he had to do was _ask_ , that idiot.”

He feels Feliciano’s concerned hand on his shoulder.

“This is all I have left of him,” Lovino explains. “A portfolio of washed out drawings.” He laughs bitterly. “Worthless scraps of paper.”

There’s a beat of silence and Lovino scrubs away his tears, frustrated they were still coming after he thought he was finished with them forever.

“They’re not worthless,” Feliciano replies quietly after another second, and Lovino looks over to see his brother looking down at the sketches closely, like he’s seeing so much more than what they appear to be. His eyes look so much older than Lovino’s ever seen them, and he has a faint smile on his lips as he gazes down at the washed out drawings. “I’ve always thought that looking at art is like seeing a piece of someone’s soul. You’re holding onto a piece of his _soul, fratello._ _That’s_ not worthless.”

The eldest Vargas is quiet, returning his gaze back down to the sketches.

He closes his eyes, remembering the moment that Antonio Fernández Carriedo had entered his life. He had brought Lovino into a whole new world that saved Lovino from the dark, terrifying places his emotions took him far too often. Memories dance behind his eyes: of dinners and parties and kisses stolen behind wandering eyes… all of which include a fantastic Spanish man with chocolate brown curls and fierce green eyes, beaming as brightly as the sun.

Instead of crying, Lovino finds himself smiling.

“You’re right,” he murmurs. “It’s not.”

He closes the portfolio gently, zipping it up and holding it to his chest. He looks back over at his brother, finding the younger Vargas watching him curiously, but a gentle smile fixed at him.

“Do you want to take a walk?” Feli asks, a bit sheepish. “Ludwig fell asleep, and I want to give him some time alone.” He bites his lip, his expression falling a little bit. “After looking after me all of last night... he really deserves it.”

Lovino glances over his brother’s shoulder, frowning at the German, but he sighs anyway. “Fine,” he says, slowly getting to his feet. He quietly stows the portfolio in the pocket he had found it in, offering a hand to his brother. Suddenly, a shudder goes through him and Feliciano frowns before he picks up one of the blankets he was under and puts it over Lovino’s shoulders.

“We have to make sure you don’t get too sick,” the youngest Vargas murmurs, his expression distracted. “Being out on the water for that long couldn’t have been good for you.” He shakes his head, and Lovino tucks the blanket around himself more tightly when Feliciano smiles at him. “Well, never mind that now, let’s go.”

They walk closely to one another in silence, their eyes sweeping the deck, trying to ignore the sounds of people asking desperately for loved ones that didn’t make it aboard. Lovino sees Emma along the way, sitting with a boy younger than her, and they nod to one another as they pass. Feliciano begins to frown after a little while, looking almost guilty as they continue their walk across the deck.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have gone for a walk,” he admits quietly after a few more minutes. Lovino wants to agree, but walking around has made his legs feel better than they did, and the sun in his face feels even nicer. “I feel like I can’t help anyone here…”

“Don’t think about it too much,” Lovino answers honestly. “We can’t help them now, even if we wanted to.” He pulls the blanket around his frame tighter, and even though the words seem harsh, he knows how true they are. He frowns at the deck.

They pass by another man wrapped up in blankets talking fast to a Carpathia crew member, pointing to where the first class passengers are being kept. Lovino steps around him, walking a little faster, because the conversation seems to be escalating and he doesn’t want to be involved in a panic.

“I’m sorry sir, but that’s for first class passengers only.”

The man laughs bitterly, and the sound causes Lovino to jerk to a stop, dead in his tracks.

“Separating us by class, even after the ship fucking sank... what a world we live in,” the man mutters under his breath. His voice is coarse and thick in his throat, and he clears it before continuing. “Look, I only need to see _one_ person, _por favor_ , I’m begging you. I _need_ to make sure he’s okay.”

Lovino doesn’t let himself turn around -- he doesn’t want to be disappointed anymore. His strange behavior doesn’t go unnoticed: Feliciano tugs at his sleeve, a worried expression on his face.

“I’ve told you sir, there’s no one aboard in first class with that name. I know this is hard for you to hear,” the officers says, his voice struggling to stay calm. “I cannot help you.”

“Then you misheard me -- he _has_ to be alive!”

Lovino braces himself. For what, he doesn’t know.

“His name is Vargas -- _Lovino Vargas._ ”

Lovino sucks in a sharp gasp, his hand flying to cover his mouth. _It couldn’t be._ He turns around slowly, disbelievingly, and sees the naval officer shake his head again at the man, pity scrawled all over his features and impossibly sad. The man, face hidden due to a shawl draped over his head, seems to flinch at the action.

“I didn’t mishear you, sir. As I said before, he’s not aboard. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He steps back, frowning. He pauses a moment, before laying a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” he murmurs, before walking away.

The man doesn’t move.

Lovino can’t tear his eyes away from that familiar looking frame.

“Antonio?” he calls out, his voice small, and the man goes rigid, but doesn’t move any further. Feliciano panics, his grip tightening as he whispers a quick _“What are you doing?!”_ in Lovino’s ear. Lovino blinks. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He swallows, his voice trapped in his throat, and tries again. “Is that you, Antonio?”

It seems to take an eternity, but the man slowly turns his head around to face him. Lovino is greeted by a pale face and an almost haggard appearance due to chapped lips and dark circles under a pair of intense green eyes. Despite everything, those eyes can’t lie to Lovino -- it’s still _his_ face. Antonio’s face.

He’s _alive._

Lovino seems rooted to the spot. He feels like this a dream -- that in any moment he’ll wake up in Feliciano’s lap and they’ll be in New York. There couldn’t be any chance that this was real, and this Antonio his mind was projecting was just a ghost: an apparition.

The ghost opens his mouth, tears rolling down his cheeks, and readies himself to speak.

“Lovi?” he asks, his voice tight with emotion, and it’s that single word that makes Lovino understand: this wasn’t a dream. He startles.

He takes off down the deck, tears welling up in his eyes and Antonio opens his arms just in time to catch him, nearly being barreled over in the process he’s so weak. Still, he manages to stay upright, murmuring Spanish as Lovino cries into his shoulder, holding him tighter than Lovino’s ever been held before. “Lovino, Lovino, _mi cariño_ \-- when I came up for air, you weren’t near me and, oh _Dios,_ I thought you were dead, oh my god--” He buries his face in Lovino’s hair and keeps talking, broken English intermingling in Spanish so frequently Lovino doesn’t even know what he’s saying.

Lovino still can’t get over the fact that Antonio is _alive_ and he’s in his arms. He hushes the taller man, petting the back of his head in an attempt to soothe him.

“How?” He whispers. Words seem like a burden, clogging up his mouth and he’s having difficulty sorting through them. “How are you alive? I thought you -- the boats --! There were only six of us they pulled out of the water--!”

Antonio shakes his head, seeming to crumple even more. “Francis saved me. He was in a boat that was half filled with seawater -- he pulled me out of the water, Lovino, and he gave me his coat to stay warm….” Antonio cuts himself off when his lungs heave in choked sobs. “He _died_ saving me. Hypothermia got him before it got to me -- but I survived the night and when I got on this boat I went to look for you in first class, but they said you weren’t there -- I thought you were gone -- I thought I was truly alone in this world--”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Lovino interrupts gently, because he knows Antonio can go on forever and he doesn't want him dwelling on such thoughts. His fingers thread through soft brown curls, and for the first time in hours he feels _warm_ , here in Antonio’s arms, and he decides then and there that he never wants to be anywhere else. He smiles through his tears and tries to contain Antonio’s shaking in his frame, hushing the Spaniard in his arms again. “I’m here and I won’t let go.”

  


Lovino keeps his promise. The entire length of time they spend on their rescue ship, they don’t leave each other’s side. They join with Feliciano in another, albeit less teary reunion and then return to Ludwig, and remain with him for the rest of the ride, keeping each other warm on the cold nights. When Lovino tries to give Antonio back his portfolio, the Spaniard looks at it momentarily before he hands it back.

“It belongs to you, Lovino,” he says softly. “It always has.”

Lovino wants to ask him what he means before he remembers what Feliciano said about how art captures the heart and soul, and he tucks the portfolio back in his pocket.

The Carpathia arrives at Ellis Island three days after the Titanic sank, and Lovino is holding onto Antonio’s hand, watching the gigantic Statue of Liberty pass by like a beacon, Antonio’s close behind him. Antonio whistles lowly at the sight, raising a hand over his eyes to look up at the entire thing, and exchanges a look with Lovino.

“After everything, we’ve made it.” He smiles. “And I’m still here with you.” His face falls after another second, his gaze falling to look at the deck. “But I guess… it won’t be like this forever, will it?”

Lovino looks at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”

Antonio gives him a sideways glance, and it looks a little shy. “You’re the heir to Roma’s company. You have responsibility now.” He smiles weakly. “That probably doesn’t include a penniless artist, does it?”

Lovino sharp stare turns into a glare. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He flushes, gripping Antonio’s hand tighter as he looks over at the city skyline growing closer. “I told you before. When this ship docks, I’m getting off with you. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Antonio frowns. “But what about--”

“Feliciano is taking over the company.” Lovino pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes unsure where to settle. “We… talked about this the other night. Feliciano is more than happy to take over. He offered to give me some money to start up something small so I could support myself, but…” his face turns an even deeper shade of red as he continues. “I told him I’d be happier if I stayed with you instead.”

Antonio is staring at him, his mouth hanging open in surprise, and as the seconds tick past without him saying anything, Lovino feels more and more self-conscious.

“What?!” he snaps, but when he actually sees the look in his lover’s eyes, he falls silent. Antonio’s eyes are shining brighter than Lovino has ever seen them: sparkling emeralds glowing in radiant, gleeful _uphoria_. Lovino, his face already engulfed in heat, seems to only grow hotter. “What’s with that face? Do you not want me--”

Antonio leans forward and presses their lips together before Lovino can say another word, grinning when he pulls away, but he keeps their faces close. “That would make me happier than anything else,” he murmurs, his lips pulling up to kiss Lovino’s temple. “ _Gracias_ , Lovino. You’re gonna be happy with me, I swear to you. I promise.”

Lovino hugs him closer, letting his eyes close. “I don’t doubt it.”

“It’ll be hard.” Antonio’s tone is serious, petting the back of the Italian’s head. “We won’t have a lot to start with.” He laughs after a second, shaking his head, and his voice turns embarrassed. “Okay, we _really_ have nothing. That makes it even harder.”

“I have you,” Lovino mumbles into the Spaniard’s shoulder. “And we made it through this in one piece. We can do it.”

Antonio laughs softly. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

When the ship docks, they follow the rest of steerage into a throng of immigration officers, answering questions and ignoring the seemingly endless strain of photographers and journalists begging for words and comments. They each say their names when asked, and are pulled into a room for processing, but when the flashes of cameras distract a few people, they slip away, unnoticed, moving on their way for their new life.

With the past behind them, and an unknown future ahead of them, they take each step forward with purpose, hand in hand, and don’t look back.

 

 

 

_End_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaa its done!! 
> 
> i'd like to thank ALL of you who commented, left kudos, and read until the end of this monster fic, even though the update schedule was a bit crazy due to unexpected issues and things!! ( p.s. i read all of my comments, i promise, im just bad at responding to them, im so sorry ;a;) a special shout out to my beta (u know who u are) who gave me those kicks in the ass to continue and keep going with this until it was done!! it's been a really fun ride!!
> 
> thank you once again from the bottom of my heart!! until next time!!


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